PerfectMatch dot Com
by Nina La Vough
Summary: It's a small cyber world after all. A WoodyJordan romance by jmkw, nynaeve, and nccjfan.
1. Single Physician Seeks Someone

**Disclaimer: Don't own them and can't wait until they come back this season.**

**This time Nina is piloted by nynaeve, nccjfann and jmkw. We hope you enjoy our look at online dating. **

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Single Physician Seeks Someone to Play Doctor With**

Jordan kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes. It was Friday night, after a long busy week. She wasn't on call, which was something that only happened once in a blue moon. She was looking forward to a blissfully quiet weekend. Peace and quiet.

She figured that was reason alone was good enough excuse to let loose a little.

Since her little black book was covered with more white-out than actual phone numbers she opted for an intimate date with the perfect bottle of merlot.

After all, wine is the perfect companion.

Unlike a man, a glass of wine is predicable. Wine didn't feel obligated to engage in stimulating conversation or fake interest just because it thought it would score more points with her.

Always selfless, wine never complained about quality time...or lack of it. Wine never insisted on exclusivity. It didn't care if she changed vintages on a whim.

Strong, heady and intoxicating...Wine never commanded control. It was there when she needed it and didn't feel left out when she didn't. It never criticized or changed the rules on her. And it never hogged the TV remote.

Wine had a wonderful knack of going with everything, Jordan smiled to herself, pulling a can if chocolate frosting out of the cupboard. Adaptable, it was right at home in anything from leaded crystal to paper cups...whatever way her mood swung.

As long as that mood didn't include anything as risky as flirting, romancing, touching...dancing.

As quick as they came, she brushed those thoughts away. At least she didn't have to worry about wine stepping on her toes or trying to cop a feel on the some crowded dance floor.

Peace and quiet. She was almost giddy.

Carefully, she sliced through the foil sheath on top of the bottle and with a practiced wrist popped the cork. She poured a glass and savored the aroma before she lifted the glass to her lips.

No matter the age, wine never failed to make her stomach warm and tingly with the first sip. Its long, warm fingers caressed psyche and relaxed her mind.

Wine never demanded her attention, it only rewarded it.

Above all, wine never smothered her. It never made unrealistic demands or tell her she needed to change. Nor did it did roll over and go to sleep before she was ready... Wine never needed its ego stroked...or anything else for that matter. Wine was the perfect date...always.

Then why did she feel so...so?

"Nevermind," she told herself, taking her glass and the can of frosting over to the couch. A few more drinks and even paint drying would be entertaining.

* * *

When the weekend was over Jordan had to admit that wine made a lousy surrogate boyfriend. Especially when it brought friends to the party. Red, white...even that cheap rosé she found loitering on top of her refrigerator. They were all the same. All fun and games until the morning after. 

Monday morning and Jordan was still feeling the remnants of a headache the size of Seely's ego. She kept an industrial sized bottle of extra strength Tylenol in her desk. She needed a few before the morning meeting. If she hurried she could pop a few before she had to be sociable. Only she had to pass Trace to get to her office...

Ten more steps and she'd be home free. Ten was all she needed. Nine...eight...seven...

"It looks like someone had an interesting weekend...details, darling."

So close. Jordan slipped her sunglasses off and fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"'Morning," she mumbled.

"Fascinating..." Nigel said, falling into step beside her. "What's his name and are we planning on returning his calls?"

His cocky smile looked oddly out of place for a Monday morning. Jordan blinked. Nobody should look so...smug...on a Monday morning. The city of Boston was over two hundred years old. There should be a law on the books against A.M. giddiness ...somewhere. It was Monday for goodness sake. She kept walking.

He arched an eyebrow. "No names?! Even better..."

She would have given her right eye, her _throbbing_ right eye, to make Nigel go away and take his imagination with him. Instead, she smiled her sweetest smile.

"When was the last time you went out with a woman that you knew more than her screen name?"

It was true. Since Nigel joined an online dating service a few months ago, he'd gone from being a closet dater to a serial dater, and making sure everyone around him knew it.

He was the company's best salesman. He'd already persuaded Sidney, Peter and God knows who else, to fork over heaven knows how much money to buy a membership. Jordan prided herself for being immune. Dating Services were for the desperate, which she wasn't.

"You're changing the subject," Nigel stated.

"His name was ...Cabernet, Chardonnay...Carmenere, take your pick. And no, I think I've learned my lesson. I'm not inviting him back. My head...and my liver...can't take it."

"I see," he chuckled. "Drinking alone is never a good idea."

"Neither is wearing white after Labor Day" she said keying the lock on her office door. "But it still happens."

"There are many more satisfying ways to spend your free time love," he added with a pirate's smile.

"It depends on how much crap you have to put up with to get to that _satisfaction_ part.

"Not to mention, it's just easier to take matters in your own hands." Lonelier, but much more convenient. Jordan looked anywhere but at Nigel.

"It's worse than I thought..."he tsked. "Have you ever considered something different..."

Jordan tossed her bag on the top of the desk and made a production of rooting around the desk drawer for the elusive headache medicine, hoping he'd take the hint. She could feel a sales pitch starting.

"Don't even try Nige. I'm not going to join that lonely-hearts club you call a matchmaking service. I don't need help meeting men. "

She meant to wipe the smile off his face, but his expression only widened. "When was the last time you met someone new that wasn't on a slab?"

"I don't need a man in my life."

"I never said you did...but it would be better for your liver to have someone help with your French friends."

"Chilean. Carmenere is Chilean...or at least the label said so."

"Do you know how utterly pathetic that sounds?" he clucked.

"And picking-up strange women with names like 2_hot4you _and _SxyAznBabe69 _with a name like _longtallcuppaT_ isn't?_"_

"Have you been reading my email again?" he teased, sitting on the edge of her desk.

Even though it hurt, Jordan rolled her eyes. "You can't tell me having a social life is as easy as hitting a computer key..."

There was that Cheshire cat smile again. "Welcome to the new millennium, darling."

She sighed. _Sickboy23_ used the ambiguity of the cyber-world to engineer a murder. She knew Nigel had too many web-smarts to get caught up in anything as deadly, but still there were whack-jobs out there looking to boil some guy's bunny.

"I don't trust anyone I can't see with my own two eyes."

"Many subscribers post pictures..."

"Pictures they've cut and pasted after Googling the words, '_tall, dark and handsome_'."

"Looks aren't everything..." Nigel said in all seriousness.

"That sounded pretty shallow, huh? Jordan winced. "It's just trying to get to know someone without being able to be face-to-face. There's something...scary about that."

"You'd be surprised how open and honest the anonymity of online dating makes a person. For some people, it's easier to show their real selves in front of a keyboard instead of having to look in someone's eyes," he said softly.

Jordan would later blame her curiosity on dehydration. "So, it really works. What the hell? Tell me more."

Nigel tick off the rewards he's found in online dating with his fingers. When he started recycling his right hand Jordan stopped him. "So how much money are we talking here?"

That smile again. "There's the beauty point my love. For lovely ladies like yourself, the first three months are free of charge."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not," he said crossing his fingers over his heart. "Think about it Jordan. You have nothing to lose...except maybe a few lonely nights."

"So, you're telling me there's no contract, obligation, or exchange of private information involved?"

Cocky, he said, "Only as private as you want to get."

"I wouldn't have to go to any of those weird speed dating nights..."

"Nope"

"No minimum requirements. I call the shots."

"You respond to as many or as few contacts as you want."

"There are no corny single-ads to write..."she said warily.

"Well..."

"I'm not writing some stupid hard-up want ad," Jordan shrugged as if to say she was no longer interested.

"Is that all?" Nigel clucked rounding the desk and gently pulling Jordan out of her chair. "That's nothing we can't handle," he mused turning on her PC. "In fact, I have a knack..."

Nigel cracked his knuckles while the machine warmed up. His fingers flew deftly over the keyboard and before Jordan knew it she was the newest member of the Charles River Cyber-friends Network.

"Let's see...we need an online name." He leaned back in the chair tapping his tented fingers against his chin, analyzing her like she was a riddle produced by one of the mysterious specimens in his lab. Jordan shifted from one foot to the other.

Nigel thought for a moment and with a smug smile tapped '_ICdeadpeople'_ in the required field.

"I see dead people?!" Jordan exclaimed.

"Apropos, don't you think?"

She chucked nervously. Her inability to comprehend anything remotely in computer-eze left Jordan utterly and completely at Nigel's mercy. Her left eye began to twitch like it did when she knew she was walking into trouble.

"Relax love," he purred as if he could read her mind. "You're in good hands. Now for the vitals..."

Jordan watched as he typed in her sex, material status and age. When it came to profession she put a hand on his arm.

"How many single, heterosexual, 30-something, dark-haired female ME's are in the city of Boston?"

"Not nearly enough in my humble opinion..." Nigel said with a devilish grin.

Jordan slapped his shoulder and replied. "My point exactly. I don't want to take the chance some virtual-stalker will try to get my attention by dropping extra work at our door."

Nigel shifted uncomfortably at the thought and quickly backspaced the words _Medical Examiner_ from the career blank. Instead he simply typed ..._Physician._

"We need to put in some compatibility points."

"Compatibility points?!" Jordan touched the corner of her eye to see if it was still twitching. It was.

"Just a few details about who you are and what you look for."

"Why does that sound like a Playmate Data Sheet...?" she asked suspiciously.

"I already told you, pictures are optional...and the way you look this morning I think it's in our best interest to forgo that entry."

"Thanks a lot."

"To me you're always beautiful, darling," Nigel smirked. "Let's keep it simple. We can use a few basic profiling questions."

_Twitch...twitch_. "Shoot."

"How would you describe yourself Jordan?

The pain in her grin had nothing to do with her headache. She pushed away from the desk with a shrug. "As you so quaintly pointed out...I see dead people."

Nigel blinked and looked at her expectantly.

"Oh, okay. Ah...I'm a workaholic with trust issues and a crappy attitude, who likes living by her own rules."

Nigel sighed. Filling out a dating profile was like writing a sales ad for a used car. The magic came in the wording. Luckily, she had him to help. Who knew what a man looked for in one of things than another man? Nigel typed.

_I'm a self-sufficient professional Virgo who believes in living every moment to the fullest. I'm known for my dynamic personality and free-spirited outlook. They go along with my killer body..._

Pleased with himself, Nigel said, "Alright love, name something that annoys you ..."

"Wasting time with online dating questionnaires."

Nigel didn't wait for her to clarify. He was already feeling inspired. He just typed.

_...I don't believe in wasting time with games. I've been around long enough to have played them all. I know what I want and expect the people I meet do too. I can open my own doors, thank you very much...but what girl doesn't like being pampered every once in awhile? _

Jordan leaned over the desk and tried to look at the computer screen but Nigel had already clicked to the next area.

"What's your idea of a good night out Jordan? And happy-hour at the Beef and Brew doesn't count," he added with a wink.

"It's been so long since I've been out on a real date, I don't think I even remember what a night out is like that doesn't include a long run with my Ipod. I guess it depends on my mood."

Nigel lips curled up at the corners as his fingers tapped against the keyword.

_...I feel just as home closing the hippest nightclubs as I do spending the evening cuddling in front of a roaring fire. I'm a lover of great music and working up a good sweat...only if the mood strikes me, of course..._

"Are you going to let my look at this before you send it?" Jordan asked, her tone ripe with curiosity.

"Trust me, Jordan. I know what I'm doing," he said clicking to the next entry. "Now for the interesting part. What do you look for in a companion?"

Jordan toyed with a box of latex gloves that she kept on edge of her desk. She studied the writing on the label as if it had the answer written somewhere on it.

"If the answer to that question were that easy I'd've picked some guy out of a line-up by now and be living happily ever after...in the 'burbs somewhere...with a handful of kids...driving a minivan...baking meatloaf..."

Nigel put up his hand to stop her. They both visibly shuttered.

"I doubt you'll ever be the Mommy-jeans type Jordan. But still, let's face the facts. You've been too busy concentrating on the kind of men that have a habit of actually turning up in line-ups instead of letting yourself open up to the ones that could truly make you happy..."

Jordan chuckled mirthlessly. Nigel wasn't that far off base.

"So you think there's someone outside of the MCI-Cedar Junction general lock-up out there for me?"

"More than a few, darling," Nigel assured her. "All you have to do is being willing to open your eyes, and your heart, to see."

In effort to look nonchalant about the advice Nigel was trying to give her, Jordan repositioned the box of latex gloves 90 degrees and then back again. The simple fact of the matter is she was lonely. Yes, she'd like someone there to help warm her bed...but what she really wanted companionship. Someone who was there when she had a bad day...or distract her when she was bored enough to spend way to much time inside a bottle of wine.

She still wasn't too sure about meeting someone this way. Even with all of Nigel's assurances she couldn't picture finding anyone with whom she could find any thing in common with ...let alone find her soul mate. Thank God she wasn't in the market for one of those. Love was just too complicated and soul mates were only for those who learned to settle.

If she found someone to spend some time with that was great...if she didn't...that was great too. It wasn't like she had anything to lose. The Chilean would understand.

She took a deep breath and launched into a dialog that sounded more like a shopping list than a dream date.

As long as they were too young for Viagra or too old to live with their mamas she wasn't that choosy about age. Smokers were out, and so were the kind of guys that had Blackie Conroy on speed dial.

She needed someone that understood her hours and could at least deal with the particulars of her job without turning green or want her to play out some deep-seeded necrophilic fantasy.

She wanted someone that didn't think she should have left her El Camino in the bottom of the lake or question her independent lifestyle.

Selfishly she admitted tall, dark and handsome would be a plus. But being self-sufficient and self-confident were even bigger pluses. Neatness counted and good hygiene was a must. And it would hurt if he had a smile that could make her forget her name.

Above all she wanted someone that wasn't looking for happily ever after. She didn't think it was in her to give it.

Nigel's fingertips skipped over the keys.

_I'm in the market for a clean, healthy, like-minded companion with a fabulous presence and a personality to match. Must be looking for some mutual exploration, but not looking to find the center of your universe. An easy smile is a big turn-on, along with an appreciation for classic automobiles. Must not be overly judgmental, involved in criminal activities, or easily shocked. A strong stomach and no latex allergy is a big advantage. _

_I look forward to hearing from you..._

"That's it," Nigel said with a flamboyant click of the mouse. "As we speak millions of electronic pulses are analyzing your statistics and complying a list of likely candidates, who, within minutes, will be emailed with a copy of your profile page. If they like what they see...and they will, darling...they will be contacting you through your site email..."

"The _ICdeadpeople_ thing right?"

"Correct. All you have to do is sit back and check your email.."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Nigel's confident reply was interrupted with a series of electronic tones that said Jordan already had an email.

"That was quick..." Jordan murmured. She rounded the desk just as Nigel opened it.

_IC. Baby. Tell me more about the sweat and the latex... _


	2. Out of a Handful of Mud

**Chapter Two**

**Out of a Handful of Mud**

Jordan hurriedly opened her apartment door and let herself in. Hoisting the bag of groceries she had in her arms onto her counter, she quickly walked over to her desk and booted up her laptop.

Then hastily putting the groceries away, she threw a Lean Cuisine in the microwave and grabbed a bottle of water from the ˜fridge, eschewing the bottle of Chilean that still stood there, looking a tad ignored and stale.

She would never admit it to Nigel. She would never admit it to _anyone_, but this computer dating service was kind of fun.

Not that she had been out on any actual dates, yet. But the responses to her profile had given her more than a chuckle or two. No, no dates yet. Jordan was too smart for that. Exchange a few e-mails. Set up a time to meet for coffee. Because everyone knew that coffee wasn't a date. Especially if you go Dutch.

Finally her internet service connected and she clicked on her favorite lists, and then the dating site icon. A disembodied voice told her she had eight e-mail messages.

"Okay, girl, let's see how it rocks tonight" Jordan clicked on her e-mail icon.

_ICdeadpeople, Cute name Real cute. Maybe we could meet where I work. I'm a technician at Hanes Mortuary. Sounds like we might have a lot in common. I see dead people, too._

Jordan promptly hit the delete button. Dead people were the last thing she wanted in common this time with anyone. The last two relationships she had involved murder victims.

And both of those relationships crashed and burned.

"So not going there this time," she told herself as she took a bite of her Margarita pizza. "This time, no reporters and no cops."

Second message.

_Baby, What a name. But I understand what you mean about the playing games thing. Way too juvenile and seriously overrated. _

She paused on that one. "Hmmmmm." It at least merited a reply. The writer sounded mature enough to perhaps understand where she was coming from. Jordan moved that e-mail into her archives to answer later.

"Next."

_ICdeadpeople, does that mean you have a thing for cold, dead people? Because I can take a really cold shower and..._

Jordan didn't even read the rest of that one. Evidently Mr. Not-So-Bright didn't understand the semi-acronym and thought she meant _icy dead people_. Jordan shuddered at the crazy people in the world and hit delete, thankful she wasn't obligated to reply to all of these e-mails.

The next two were posers people who had bought into the dating service but were using it as a front to try to sell their goods. The first guy was trying to sell her life insurance. The second was a dildo salesman whose company could make you a dildo according to _your_ specifications. Length. Width. Vibrations per second. Color. Texture.

Jordan read that one through twice, not quite believing that such a company really existed. Then she threw it into her archive mail not to answer, but to show Nigel. He'd get a chuckle out of that one. And if desperate times every called for desperate measures .she had a hook up.

"Okay, maybe number five's the charm," she said, taking another bite of pizza and pondering the wisdom of leaving that bottle of Chilean wine alone another night in her refrigerator. She held her breath and opened it up:

_ICdeadpeople, The mutual exploration thing caught my fancy. That sounds like it could be fun with you. Tell me how you feel about leather whips and handcuffs?_

Jordan gulped and hit delete. The closest she had gotten to leather and sex was that leather bustier that Tyler had bought her all those years ago when she lived in California. And handcuffs? They only gave her a thrill when the cops were slapping them on the bad guys, toting them away to jail.

"Moving on to number six"

_ICdeadpeople, _

_I'm new to Boston and am anxious to make meet people and make new friends. Would love to get to know you better. Can you tell me what would put you in the mood to work up a good sweat?_

_Yours truly,_

_NewBostonGuy_

"Okay, he had me until he asked me about the sweat thing," she said to her screen. She pushed her desk chair back and padded back into her kitchen area. Opening the cabinet, she grabbed a wine glass and re-introduced herself to the Chilean, completely forgetting the vow she had made to herself and Nigel to forego her winey companions for a while. She had no second thoughts when she hit the delete button.

Letting the wine warm her spirits and her tummy for a minute, Jordan ate the rest of her microwaved pizza. "When did it get so hard to meet men?" she asked the bottle of wine that was now residing on her desk. "When did I get so busy? When did I.." She stopped there. She knew the answer. Her let her job eat up her spare time because she had no one to spend her spare time with.

And the reason she had no one to share her spare time with was because, because… Mentally, she ticked off the reasons: trust issues, no stable relationship models, her insatiable need to control any relationship she was in, her stubbornness, her fierce independence.

Reflectively she chewed the last piece of her pizza. Maybe this was all a bust. Maybe she was wasting her time. Maybe there was really no one out there for her. Maybe she was destined to be alone for the rest of her life, in this tiny two room apartment with a cat, that she didn't have yet, but would surely purchase at some point because didn't all old-maids have at least one cat?

She'd become that weird neighbor down the hall, the one that the kids all are scared of and run from because she's a dead people's doctor.

Sighing, she swallowed the last of the pizza and shook the morose fears from her mind. Then slugging back the rest of the wine, she opened message seven. It was from the dating service, reminding her that her free trial would be up eight weeks.

Jordan nearly wept. Everyone either wanted answers, money, or kinky sex from her. Sighing again, she eyed message eight with suspicion. If this one didn't look at least half-way promising, she was giving up for at least three days. She wouldn't look at her ICdeadpeople account for three days. She raised her glass to the bottle of Chilean to seal the vow and fearfully opened the last message.

_ICdeadpeople,_

_Did you get your name from the movie? Just wondered. It is different from the other names I've seen so far._

_Not that I've seen many. I'm new to this internet dating service thing. Got suckered in by a free offer._

_Let me tell you a little about myself. I'm a professional in the public service sector. I sometimes work odd hours and sometimes I have to work a lot of overtime. In my spare time, what little of it there is, I enjoy running, good music (especially the oldies), and collecting antique toys._

_I guess because of my odd working hours, I've had to relegate my social life to an internet dating service. Doing this the old-fashioned way hasn't worked so far._

_I'm in my mid-thirties, healthy, and at least semi-intelligent. _

_Look forward to hearing from you soon._

_HarborRunner35_

_PS_

_What kind of classic cars do you like? I have a thing for them, too._

Jordan sat back in disbelief. Out of a handful of mud, a pearl. Someone she though she would like to get to know even if they never met. Even if their relationship got no further than e-mail and that thing Nigel called instant messaging -- an on-line conversation.

If nothing else, her keyboarding skills would improve.

She clicked on the reply button.

_Dear HarborRunner 35,_

_I'm new to this internet dating service thing, too. I also got suckered in by a free ad. I would have never thought of it myself, but a friend who has had great success with it talked me into it_

_I'm a professional, too. A doctor. And because of that, I understand your long and nontraditional hours. Your schedule sounds a lot like my own. _

_I am also in my mid-thirties and have lived in Boston most of my life._

_I like classic cars, but mainly classic trucks. You see a lot of old cars. Not that many old trucks. That's what makes them special to me._

_I'd like to add you to my friends list (I think that's called a f-list?). That way if we're both on-line we can at least instant message even if we decide to never actually meet. _

_Let me know if it's okay to f-list you._

_Looking forward to hearing from you again,_

_ICdeadpeople._

Jordan re-read her message twice. _Nigel was right about one thing, _she mused._ You were a lot freer on the internet with yourself than you were in person,_. She had just told HarborRunner35 more about herself than she did any other guy even by the third date.

She felt anxiety begin to knead its way between her shoulder blades. But before it could begin to throb in her temples, she deliberately hit the send button.

Nigel would be proud.


	3. Fox in Socks is Looking for a New SamI

**Chapter 3 **

**Fox in Socks is Looking for a New Sam-I-Am **

Jordan peeked her head into the hallway and, seeing it was clear with hardly a sound coming from anywhere as well, she closed her office door and hurried to her computer. If Nigel caught her, he'd laugh until… well, he'd laugh a lot. If Garret caught her, he'd raise his eyebrows and start to say something before recalling she was too stubborn for his lectures. If Lily or Bug caught her, ew… Not that she wasn't happy for those two, but ever since Lily had left Jeffrey at the altar, the sickly, sweet, syrupy way they looked at and spoke to each other was a bit much. Not to mention how they kept trying to fix up _everyone_ around them. No… she didn't want to get caught.

She found she was holding her breath as her computer booted up and she headed for the dating service website. She'd heard back from a few of the men she'd deemed worth a reply and was having coffee the next day with the guy who claimed he didn't like games, either. But it had been three days since she'd heard from HarborRunner 35. She was almost annoyed with herself at the level of her anxiety over it. She kept thinking it was only an internet dating site, that she shouldn't get invested in someone after one message and her own reply, that maybe he'd been working strange hours. Yet here she was – logging on during her lunch hour, hoping to see his nickname in her inbox.

Her pulse sped up when she saw she had five new messages, but it slowed right back down when none of them were from him. She sighed and bit her lower lip. She might as well see what had come in since… she checked over coffee before leaving for work. Yeah, she was being pathetic about this. She knew it. But there was just something in his first contact that had called out to her, something she hadn't felt in a long time. There was no way she could explain it to anyone, no way to rationalize it to herself even. Maybe after everything that had happened she just felt a need for some sort of stability and _not_ the kind of the old maid who lives in the two room apartment with her cats. Maybe she was grasping at straws… or straw men.

Glumly, she clicked open the first message. There wasn't any sense in ruling this guy out just because she'd been hoping to hear from someone else. She read through the message, her jaw dropping. _Whew! No, I'm ruling him out all on his own merits!_ She really didn't want to linger over the images generated by his descriptions of creative ways to use a toothbrush. She was beginning to think the state of Massachusetts had a higher than normal percentage of sexual deviants. At least she hoped it was higher than normal.

Her heart now residing somewhere around her knees, she clicked open message number two from someone who'd chosen the moniker "redfishbluefishonedatemymate". And laughed out loud. The e-mail was written entirely in a Dr. Seuss-like rhyme, as the guy's name suggested.

_You sound like just my type_

_Honest, not much hype_

_I broker stocks_

_Some ladies say I'm a fox_

_I enjoy fine food and wines_

_I will never feed you any lines_

_I would like to meet_

_To have some coffee and maybe eat_

_We could do it in a shop_

_We could do it at a sock hop_

_I hope you'll reply_

_So we can meet eye to eye._

Jordan had no intention of replying – Dr. Seuss kind of creeped her out - but at least the mail raised her spirits.

She clicked on the third mail to find it was her coffee date hoping they could push the time back half an hour. She sent off a quick reply, agreeing easily.

The fourth and fifth e-mails she archived for later reply. Neither sounded all that exciting, but neither were they creepy, cutesy, or clueless. And neither of them mentioned odd uses for basic household items.

She sat back with a sigh, her mouth pulled down into a slight grimace. She should be looking forward to her coffee… meeting tomorrow, not getting hung up on some unseen man who might have been doing little more than blowing smoke her direction. She leaned forward again, ready to log off when the computer gave off that lovely little sing-song noise that meant… a new message! Steeling herself for disappointment, she clicked back to her actual inbox.

Her eyes went wide and her lips curved into a huge grin.

_Hey girl,_

_Sorry I didn't respond sooner. I mentioned I sometimes have really odd hours at work. and the last few days have been really long ones. I've been thinking a lot about your e-mail, wishing I had the chance to get back to you. I have a few minutes now actually and wanted to let you know that it'd be great if you would f-list me. Aren't these phrases they come up with crazy? Maybe I'm getting old._

_That's cool that you like classic trucks. My uncle had this '53 Chevy… that was one sweet ride! I always wished I could have bought it from him, but… didn't happen._

_I'm about out of time right now, but if you're going to be online tonight, maybe we can instant message? I'm not working, no matter what, and I'd like to get to know you better. It seems like we have a lot in common. And you would not believe some of the weird replies I've gotten to my profile!_

_Hoping to hear from you tonight,_

_HarborRunner35_

Jordan swallowed reflexively and reread his response. He'd been thinking of her? He thought they had a lot in common? It wasn't all in her head then. Odd as it seemed without seeing a face or hearing a voice, she could swear there might be something. She pondered it for a minute, thinking about those arranged marriages; she'd known a girl in med school who'd done that and, based on the card Jordan got once a year, it had worked really well. Maybe there was something to be said for getting to know someone without the expectations everyone had these days.

She jumped at the sound of a knock on her door and flipped shut the lid on her laptop. "Yeah."

Nigel opened the door and peered around. "You hiding in here?"

"No. Why?" She gave him her best poker face.

His eyes narrowed. "Because you're missing all the fun."

The treacle in his voice made her cock a brow. "What fun?"

"Come on," he told her, coming in to the room, prepared to haul her out of her chair if needed. "Lily and Bug are telling us all about the apartment they looked at this weekend. Wouldn't want to miss a single detail, would you?"

Jordan groaned

* * *

As it turned out, Jordan heard very little about the apartment. A call came in requesting an M.E. and Jordan eagerly took it. As they drove to the scene, Nigel, also eager to get away, teased her. "You do know the detective is Woodrow?"

She glanced over. "Nige, Woody and I are… we're fine."

"Right."

"We are! Really."

He clucked his tongue.

She glared and drove on in silence.

"So… how's the dating service going?" The Brit asked. "Any more interesting… solicitations."

She told him about the guy with the toothbrush and laughed at the look of horrified disgust on his face. She was about to tell him about HarborRunner35 – no details, just that there was someone a bit promising – when it occurred to her she had never powered down her computer. Her voice trailed off.

"Luv? You okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah." She waved a hand to dismiss his concerns. "Just thinking about all the – uh – the weirdoes out there."

"There are a few, aren't there?" He prattled on about a group he'd come across that was even a bit too out there for his tastes. Jordan sighed inwardly, relieved that he'd bought her cover. Then she cursed herself. Surely no one would have any reason to access her computer. Right?

* * *

It was dark by the time Jordan finished the autopsy. She was on her way to her office, ready to fill out the preliminary report to shoot over to Woody at the precinct when she noticed her door ajar. Her earlier concerns about someone accessing her computer came roaring back. She'd never live it down. She all but flew into her office.

"Woody! What are you doing here?"

The man in question was bent over her desk, hand poised on the edge of her computer's lid, ready to lift it. He looked up, his eyes dark with confusion over her tone. "Uh… I didn't know you were still here and I didn't have the prelim. so I thought…."

"Well, I'm here and I'm about to get you that report so… do you mind?" She scooted her way around her desk, motioning to him to move.

Still perplexed, he backed away. "Sorry." He tried smiling at her, but she was too distracted to notice or care if she did. "I – I … never mind."

Her body blocking the screen, Jordan brought the computer out of hibernation and closed the internet site as quickly as she could. Relaxing a bit, she sat down. "It won't take me long. Do you want to wait?"

"Um… yeah. Sure." He studied her for a minute, wondering what was up with her and wishing for the old days when he might have asked. "Hey, you want to grab some… Chinese?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Oh. No, thanks."

"Plans?"

She gave a quick head shake. "No. Um… not really. Just – tired. Long day. You know."

"Yeah." He looked down, scuffed the carpet with the toe of one shoe. "You know, go ahead and just send that over. We're already doing everything we can and…." He shrugged.

"Okay," she replied. "Sure."

For a moment they looked at each other, each wanting to ask exactly where it had all gone wrong and both being far too afraid to say it. He said his good-byes and closed the door behind him on his way out. Jordan sighed, trying again to resign herself to the fact that whatever used to be between them had died. It had died hard, but it had died. Too much water under all the bridges they'd crossed. She knew she'd missed something strong and vital in her life and now simply hoped someday they could recover the friendship they'd once shared.

Shaking her head, hoping to clear them of her morose thoughts, she turned her attention to the preliminary report she needed to get done. It wouldn't take long, just a recounting of the most basic of facts. The more detailed report would wait until findings could be analyzed, until the tox screen came back.

An hour later she was home, booting up her personal laptop, mixing up a salad and hoping to find HarborRunner35 online. She went immediately to her account at the dating site and clicked her f-list. He was there!

Her fingers trembling lightly, she moved the cursor over his name and double clicked the mouse. A small box popped up. In the space provided, she typed her greeting.

_Hi. I see you made it online._

While she waited for a reply, she got up and, deciding it was a celebration, opened a bottle of wine. She hoped the Chilean wouldn't be too put out, but tonight she opted for something with a little more sense of… history. After all, aren't the French known for their romance?

As she poured the glass of pink wine, the computer beeped at her.

_Hey girl. I was hoping you'd show._

Jordan smiled.


	4. Freefalling Guy Seeks a Solid Place to L

**Chapter 4 **

**Freefalling Guy Seeks a Solid Place to Land**

Jordan logged her computer off and tucked the Frenchman next to his friend in the refrigerator for the night with a soft '_bonne nuit'. _It was well after midnight and she was dragging.

She should have logged off hours ago...but this IMing-thing was addicting. I_Cdeadpeople _spent the last three or maybe it was four, _enjoyable_ hours chatting with _HarborRunner35. _

_Chatting! _Who would have ever guessed? It was the longest conversation she's had in months. Hell, it was the longest non-work related conversation she's had with anyone in..._forever_.

She talked to a total stranger about everything from the latest movies to the hottest author and their standing on Chicago versus New York-style pizza. She found out they both listened the same radio stations, both used the same dry cleaners on Broad St., and were collectively heartbroken when Johnny Damon announced he was leaving the Soxs for the Yankees...

They even forwarded a few of the laughable contact emails they had received while discussing the pitfalls and advantages of dating in the new millennium. Jordan was still chuckling over his impression of Dr. Stockbroker.

_HarborRunner35: Oh, the THINKS you can think up if only you try-- _

_Would you meet me in a car?_

_Would you meet me in a bar?_

_Would you let me swing you from a star? (Or at least the ceiling fan in my bedroom) _

_Say, what a lot of THINKS there are!_

She answered back.

_ICdeadpeople: I don't like your THINKS! No sir!_

_I would not meet you in a car. I would not meet you in a bar. I would not let you anywhere near my stars! _

_Not here, not there. Not anywhere. There's no way you'll ever see my underwear. _

_I don't like your THINKS, no sir-ee. No matter who you THINK you are. _

Around eleven, _HarborRunner35_ noted the time and said he needed to make a quick call for work, even though it was probably already too late. He asked her to stay online. Jordan amazed herself by agreeing.

Jordan used the idle time to rinse out her salad bowl and debated on changing into something more comfortable. She decided she could really get into the casualness of getting to know people this way. It was so much easier then playing the usual old mating games. Not to mention the dress code was right up her alley.

Before she could get her bra off her call rang. It was Woody. He apologized for the lateness of the call but said he had been busy. He hated to ask, but was wondering if she could get him the final report on the autopsy she did for him that afternoon. He wanted to turn it all over to the DA's office by the end of the day tomorrow. As a favor.

Jordan read between the lines. He had plans for the evening and he didn't want to drag work into it. She assured him she'd put it in hands by six. The truth of the matter was she had plans too. She was meeting _Gglove1998 _for coffee at six-thirty.

Jordan kept that information to herself.

Pride was a prickly thing.

Woody was the last person she wanted to know she was internet dating. Idly she wondered if Woody had ever considered the internet dating gig for himself. Especially since they were definitely on the outs now. As a matter of fact, Jordan was pretty sure that Woody would do well in the micro-chip dating world. He was open and gregarious. Just like _HarborRunner35._

By the time she had her pajamas on, _HarborRunner35 _was back on line wondering if she had abandoned him for someone that could type faster.

That was then that he asked to meet her. Jordan panicked at first. It wasn't like it would be her first face-to-face since this 90-day-free-trial experiment began. She had gone on six other coffee 'dates'. None of which she'd care to repeat...but six, nonetheless.

The idea of meeting this one made her nervous. Other than they shared totally different views on the Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, Jordan felt a connection to this one. It felt like it would be less of a meeting and more like a real date. She was sure the second they sat down she'd find him lacking. Didn't she find something lacking in all the rest?

Maybe therein lay the problem with trying to get to know someone on line. How can you really get to know someone without looking into their eyes?

_ICdeadpeople: How do you know I'm not just in the market for another human liver to store in my freezer? _

Jordan groaned out loud but it didn't stop her from clicking enter. It seemed like even in the cyber world she was dead set on sabotaging herself. She reminded herself this whole dating service thing was designed for a bunch of horny losers, perverts, and crazies. She was doing this for shits and giggles, something she could look back on one day and laugh about and say she'd been there, done that.

Then why did she feel sick to her stomach when he didn't answer right back? The screen lay idle for a full minute.

_HarborRunner35: I know a good place on Kirby that serves killer fried chicken livers. How about Saturday night? _

_ICdeadpeople: Liver? I can see you really know how to show a girl a good time. How about coffee at The Daily Grind by the Public Gardens on Sunday afternoon? _

_HarborRunner35: A girl that's watching her cholesterol. I can work with that. Sunday? I should be free. It's a date. _

* * *

"Liver?!" _HarborRunner35_ was still chastising himself the next morning. Nicking himself while shaving only added injury to insult. He straightened the knot on his tie almost wishing it were a noose.

He shouldn't take this whole online dating thing so seriously, but it wasn't like he was having any luck meeting woman in the traditional way.

No, he took that back.

He met women alright...but meeting The Right One was elusive at best. At least the _right_ Right One. He climbed into his electric blue Chevelle and fired up the engine. He keyed his radio and told dispatch that he was on his way before pulling away from the curb to fight the traffic that would stay thick all the way to the Nineteenth Precinct.

Coffee on Sunday. He was on call, but he could still squeeze in a trip cross town.

If anything his social calendar was fuller since Nigel talked him into this. He was having dinner after work with a twice divorced accountant that called herself _Hadenufalrdy. _She made it clear she wasn't looking for anything long term. He figured while he was looking for The Right One he could bide his time along the way with a few Alright-for-Nows. _ICdeadpeople_ had a little more promise.

Then why did it feel like he was being unfaithful to his own heart every time he talked to her?

* * *

Jordan piggybacked Woody's report on a pile of paperwork Sidney was running over to the precinct. She was running a few minutes late for her meeting with _GGlove1998_.

He told her he was a six-two, blue-eyed lefty who was originally from California. He said a job transfer brought him to town few months ago and he didn't know very many people outside of the office. _GGlove1998_ said he traveled extensively with his work which made it next to impossible to meet new people. He confessed to her that he opted to try a singles-site because he could keep up with it where ever he was, on any given day. He emailed that he was between out-of-towners and was home for a few days. He really wanted to meet her and she was already fifteen minutes late.

_GGlove1998 _told her she'd recognize him because he'd be wearing a BoSox infielder's cap. She saw the hat the second she walked in the door. It wasn't hard to miss.

If she was secretly expecting one of the Soxs newest trades, J.T. Snow, she was sadly mistaken.

_GGlove1998_ may have been every inch of six-two and there was definitely blue eyes peering out underneath his baseball cap, but he neglected to say he'd also be wearing a pair acid wash jeans that would make Jon Bon Jovi cry and a skin tight Journey-Evolution concert T, that looked like he personally picked it up at the 1979 concert, which was about a million cases of beer ago.

Jordan looked around again. You'd think in a coffee shop ten miles away from Fenway there would be more baseball caps. Not a one. She sighed and reminded herself it was just coffee.

A quick cup of coffee and she was out of there.

She stepped forward and offered him her hand and was instantly engulfed in a cloud of conflicting scents which gave her the impression that he stopped by some drug store fragrance counter on his way to meet her and helped himself to the testers. She decided to order her coffee to go.

His hand was unnaturally dry and rough...and he didn't let go while he made his inspection.

Jordan was used to The Inspection. Be it a conventional blind date or one of these real-time rendezvous, there was always an inspection. The Gloved One was more obvious then most. He blatantly sized her up and down like she was a used car he was looking to test drive. She'd know if she passed or failed if she ended up buying her own coffee.

"You sure are a skinny one," he finally said. Jordan didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or insult. "Shall we," he said pointing to the counter.

Jordan ordered a house tall and reached for her wallet. She wasn't going to give him the chance to pick up the tab. He didn't put up too much of a fight. He suggested they take a seat by the door. It was her turn not to argue.

He earned a second chance when he held out the chair for her and thanked her for picking up the check...but lost it just as quickly when he spent the next few minutes talking about how his ex was bleeding him dry with alimony. Jordan burned the top of her mouth on her coffee. Anything to keep her mouth shut.

Jordan made a show of looking at her watch as she tossed her empty cup in a nearby trash can. "It was really nice meeting you, but I need to be going..."

"Wait! I don't even know your real name. I can't exactly go around calling you the I-see-dead-people-chick. Besides..." Jordan watched in horror as he pulled a dog-eared physician's sample pack of Viagra out of his back pocket. "I mean, these things expire in a few days and I was hoping...if you wouldn't mind..."

* * *

_HarborRunner35: You're shitting me. _

Even though she was just reading an instant-message line Jordan could almost hear the chuckle in _HarborRunner35_'s voice. Briefly she wondered if his voice was deep and resonating or soft and lyrical. She wondered if he liked to talk dirty in bed.

_HarborRunner35: Are you still there? I didn't finally scare you off. Did I?_

Jordan blinked twice at the screen and then typed.

_ICdeadpeople: No, I was just trying to get the picture of this guy's face out of my head. I reminded him that one of the side-effects of using a drug like Viagra was the possibility of an erection lasting more than four hours. I have to admit at first he just smiled, but then I told him that the only way to get relief was to go to the ER and have them pop it like a balloon._

_HarborRunner35: Ouch. Don't tell me he fell for it._

_ICdeadpeople: Remember, I'm a doctor. What do you think? I sold it with a solemn nod and a few tsks. I actually feel a little sorry for him. I "popped" his ego when all he was looking for was to get lucky. I mean what are most men on these dating sites looking for anyway? Easy sex. _

It was Jordan's turn to think she scared him off.She was about to ask if he was still there when the familiar screen name popped-up followed by a line of blue script.

_HarborRunner35: I don't think so. I believe most people come to places like this looking for what they've missed out on elsewhere. For one reason or the other they find themselves searching for love inside the wires and circuit boards of cyberspace because it's either too elusive or too damn discouraging in the real world. I believe deep down we're all looking for that one person that sees us differently than the rest of the world. We want someone who can see past our faults and shortcomings and see only what's good on the inside. Then we want them to help us bring that goodness out and show us how to nurture and develop it so the rest of the world can see the person we can be. _

Jordan was taken aback. What happened to the guy with a caustic wit she was used to trading barbs with? Hadn't she sat there half the night waiting for him to log-on after his dinner with a woman that hinted to him that her Pomeranian was, and always would be, the most important man in her life? Didn't they make a pact last night that they were going to meet in the chat room and trade war stories about their evening and have a good laugh before going to bed?

Where did this searching for a Dorothy Boyd to go with his Jerry Maguire come from?

She tapped out a quick reply.

_ICdeadpeople: I think they made an animated Christmas special with a very similar theme. It had a Grinch and a Who. I'd have to check with Dr. Stockbroker to be sure. _

_HarborRunner35: Did I upset you?_

_ICdeadpeople: No. I'm sorry. It's just late and I'm tired. I've had a long day. _

_HarborRunner35: Passing out Band-aids and terrorizing unsuspecting Steve Perry fans? _

Jordan couldn't help but smile as she typed.

_ICdeadpeople: Something like that. You don't mind if we take this up at another time?_

_HarborRunner35: Sure. We're still on for Sunday. Right?_

_ICdeadpeople: As long as you leave your Viagra home. _

_HarborRunner35: Scout's honor. So, I'll see you then?_

_ICdeadpeople: Yes. _

_HarborRunner35: Good, I'm looking forward to it. _

_ICdeadpeople: Goodnight._

_HarborRunner35: Wait. Can I ask you a quick question?_

_ICdeadpeople: Sure._

_HarborRunner35: How exactly does the ER deal with an erection that lasts longer than four hours? _


	5. Wanted: One White Knight – Fast Horse O

**Chapter Five**

**Wanted: One White Knight – Fast Horse Optional**

_I don't want another heartbreak  
I don't need another turn to cry  
I don't want to learn the hard way  
Baby Hello, oh no, good-bye…_

Jordan rolled over and slapped her radio alarm clock off the nightstand. It couldn't be seven in the morning and if it was, why did she have to wake up to a chirpy Faith Hill love song? Worst of all, it was the song that pinned all of the girl's hopes and dreams to a near-perfect fairytale lover?

And why couldn't all men be like that?

If Jordan knew the answer to this, she could give Dr. Phil a run for his money _and_ have her own television show. She was still trying to figure out how and why it was so hard for a professional, single woman like herself to find Mr. Right the old-fashioned way instead of searching through an internet connection of microchips, modems, routers, and cables.

She sighed and picked her clock radio up and set it back on her nightstand. Then she lay back down and pulled the pillow over her head.

_Cinderella said to Snow White  
How does love get so off course?  
All I wanted was a white knight  
With a good heart, soft touch, fast horse.  
Ride me off into the sunset  
Baby, I'm forever yours…_

The radio kept blaring until she firmly depressed the off button.

"Yeah, yeah," Jordan mumbled, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I'm trying to figure out that 'off-course' love thing myself, Faith." She stumbled to her bathroom to brush her teeth and shower. From Faith's tone, Jordan imagined that at one time the singer was like every other girl…all she wanted was a nice guy, little house in the 'burbs…but somewhere along the way, she got jaded. The white knight just wasn't coming. Or at least wasn't coming fast enough.

Of course, for Faith, that changed. Enter one Tim McGraw and Faith had her white knight and …forget the little house in the 'burbs. Faith had a castle in Nashville. Complete with adorable children and one hot-ass husband.

_So why can't that be every woman?_ Jordan wondered as she examined her teeth in the mirror.

_More specifically, why can't that be me?_

She'd forgo the castle and the horse. The hot-ass man…now that was something she wasn't ready to give up on yet. At least not since she still had another free month or so with this internet dating service.

And while it wasn't exactly proving fruitful, at least it was getting her out of the house more. As a matter of fact, she had three "coffee dates" today. One at eleven, one at three, and the final one, the one with _HarborRunner35 – _the one she was really interested in – at seven. They had instant messaged last night again to confirm their plans.

_HarborRunner35: Don't panic if I'm a few minutes late. I'll be getting off work, and you know how public service jobs go. Sometimes I can't clock out exactly at five._

_ICdeadpeople: I know. Remember, I'm a doctor._

_HarborRunner35:_ _I remember. But you're off-duty this weekend. You don't have an excuse for being late…._

_ICdeadpeople: __True. Don't worry. If you're a few minutes late, I'll still be there._

_HarborRunner35: __How will I know who you are?_

_ICdeadpeople: I'll be wearing a BoSox t-shirt._

_HarborRunner35: __Like you'll be the only person in Boston with a BoSox shirt?_

_ICdeadpeople: I'll be in the back booth_.

_HarborRunner: So you'll be the only female in the coffee shop, in the back booth, with a BoSox shirt._

_ICdeadpeple: __You got it._

Jordan smiled in anticipation. She had enjoyed chatting with him, exchanging barbs, finding it refreshing that someone else in Boston shared her same warped sense of humor and sarcastic wit. It was probably the fact that both of them were in the "public service" sector that made them that way.

So far, she and _HarborRunner35_ had a lot in common. She just hoped that meeting him wasn't the ultimate letdown.

Or worse, the ultimate deception on his part.

Still smiling in anticipation, she got dressed and prepared to meet her first "coffee date." _Iwanawoman_.

Then she frowned. With a screen name like that, how great could this guy be? She decided that casual dress was the best. Armored in her favorite pair of jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt, she drove to The Daily Grind.

* * *

Jordan opened the big, red door to her apartment with a groan and a shove. Two dates…two totally wasted hours. Two hours she could have been doing something more fun and entertaining…like cleaning the mold from the grout in her bathroom.

Mr. _Iwanawoman_ was the professional businessman he purported to be…down to his Blackberry and six cell phone calls that interrupted their conversation. By the time they had ordered their coffee, his business partner had called to let _Iwanawoman_ know that he needed to come back to the office and sign some papers.

By the time they were picking their coffee up, his lawyer had called and told him not to sign the new child support agreement his ex was pushing on him.

"And how many children do you have?" Jordan boldly asked after shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation. She really didn't have much of a choice. _Iwana_ was standing no more than two feet from her and didn't bother to move. By that point, she had deemed the date was going badly and she just really wanted to pay for her coffee and leave.

"Three."

"Ah. Three."

_Iwana_ had hung up by that point and led the way to a table. "So you see, that's part of the reason I want a woman. Someone to help me with the kids when I have them for visitation." He had chuckled at the inversion of his screen name.

_Someone you can dump them on while you go play golf is more like it…_ Jordan thought. But she had only smiled and suffered through the initial awkward introductions. "A ME?" _Iwana_ had asked after inquiring about her medical field. "That can't pay as much as a specialist…"

Jordan slowly sipped her coffee and waited through three more phone calls. One from his kids, one from his broker, and one from his ex-wife. It was when he told his ex he couldn't make it to his son's soccer game because he had an appointment with his manicurist that Jordan stood and excused herself. As she walked away, she noted that _Iwana_ had assumed she was visiting the ladies room. Instead she waltzed out the front door.

And didn't look back.

Jordan later wondered how many phone calls _Iwana_ took before he realized she was gone.

The three o'clock date – Mr._Studenuff4U_ – was a total bust, too. _Stud_ had on his profile that he took care of himself. Ran. Worked out.

What he failed to mention was that he was a body builder. When he showed up at the coffee shop all muscled out in a black wife beater and jeans, Jordan found herself praying hard for the first time in years -- that God would open the floor of the Daily Grind and let it simply swallow her up.

Whole.

She had never autopsied anyone that had died of embarrassment, but she would bet her next skinny vanilla latte that she would be the first victim of death by such an emotion. After thirty minutes of his animated talk about himself…and himself….and himself…Jordan admitted defeat. "Look…_Stud…_" His screen name grated off her tongue like dried-out Parmesan cheese. "It's been great talking about amino acids and reps and getting ripped, but I need to go. I'm on call…."

Lying through her teeth but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Hey, wait…could we meet at the gym tomorrow morning? I'd really like to show you my bench presses."

_Ohhhh, I just bet you would_….The words were on the tip of her tongue. Instead she smiled sweetly and declined, saying not only was she on call, but she was working a double shift.

Then fled the scene. As quickly as her Doc Martins would take her.

But now…it was time to get ready for date three. _HarborRunner35. _Despite the disappointing dates with _Iwanawoman _and _Studenuff4U_, Jordan couldn't help but feel a frisson of anticipation run up her spine. She might never admit it aloud to anyone…or on line to him, but _this_ was the date she was waiting for.

Deeming that this meeting just might be the "big" one, she decided that _HarborRunner35_ deserved another shower and freshly washed hair. With a grin on her face, she headed for the bathroom.

* * *

Jordan nervously tapped her nails on the table of the back booth at the Daily Grind. It was seven. _He said he might be late…give him time…_

She glanced at the clock a little later. It was now 7:12. _It's not that late…_

Seven-thirty. She ordered another skinny vanilla latte.

Ten 'til eight. She wished she had given _HarborRunner35_ her cell number so he could have at least called her and let her know how late he was going to be.

Or if he could show at all.

Finally by 8:30 and a near terminal case of caffeine intake, Jordan admitted defeat. Unfolding herself from the booth, she said good night to the Daily Grind staff, who by now knew her by name and drove back home to her apartment, trying to sort out _why_ he wouldn't show up.

Vainly, she went through their IM's in her mind as she took off her make up and washed her face. There was nothing to indicate any duplicity. He seemed like an honest guy. One that was willing to share his emotions. One that was willing to share his thoughts.

Was he one that she might be willing to share her bed with? That thought stung and for a moment she felt momentarily guilty as a pair of blue eyes flashed in front her. _That bridge is burned, Cavanaugh_, she told herself as she donned her ducky pajamas. She padded back through her living room and stopped in front of her computer. _Maybe…._

She'd never know until she logged on.

And there he was.

_HarborRunner35: __You must hate me._

_ICdeadpeople: I haven't known you long enough to hate you._

_HarborRunner35: __I went to the coffee shop, but it was after 8:30. I was hoping by some chance you'd still be there._

Jordan groaned.

_ICdeadpeople: __We must have just missed each other. I left at 8:30._

_HarborRunner35: I am so sorry. I had to work over and the case I was working on just got a lot more complicated than I thought it would. I had no way of letting you know that other than e-mail or instant messaging and I had a feeling that you wouldn't take your laptop to the Daily Grind._

Case…maybe he was a social worker…

_ICdeadpeople: Difficult situation?_

_HarborRunner35: I hope this hasn't made it difficult for us._

_ICdeadpeople: __LOL ….not us. The case. It must have been a difficult one._

_HarborRunner35:_ _It was. Involved a kid._

Jordan sucked in a deep breath of sympathy before she started typing again.

_ICdeadpeople: __Those must be the worse._

_HarborRunner: Unfortunately I've had a few involving children. They never get any easier._

_ICdeadpeople: I can imagine._

_HarborRunner35: So, am I forgiven?_

_ICdeadpeople: Of course. We can do coffee some other time._

_HarborRunner35:- __So you'll still talk to me on line?_

_ICdeadpeople: Sure. No one else out there has my same warped sense of humor._

_HarborRunner35: Or the same distaste for the Yankees._

_ICdeadpeople: That too._

Jordan smiled at her computer screen. Whoever this _HarborRunner35_ was, he was certainly worth the wait. Sensitive, with a sense of humor. After _Iwanawoman_ and _Studenuff4U_, the man was truly a breath of fresh air in a stale, internet dating world. Idly she wondered if he had blue eyes, too.

And if maybe, just maybe _HarborRunner35_ was that white knight Faith had sung about this morning.


	6. Coffeeholic Seeks a Fellow Oxymoron

**Chapter 6**

**Sleepy Coffee-holic Seeks a Fellow Oxymoron**

"Good morning, luv." Nigel wagged his eyebrows at Jordan as she trudged into the break room. In the three days since she and HarborRunner35 had just missed each other at the Daily Grind, they'd spent their evenings IMing each other, last night until well past midnight. "Bad night?" The Brit's eyes twinkled. "Or maybe a really good one?"

Jordan groaned in reply.

"Safe to say the dating trial is… progressing?"

"Nigel," she gave a warning growl.

"Come on now, enquiring minds want to know!"

She sighed and gave him a recap of her recent coffee dates, stopping short, for some reason she couldn't name, of telling him about HarborRunner35. _Afraid to jinx yourself maybe?_

Nigel clucked his tongue in sympathy. He gave her a curious look, well aware she was holding something back. "Nothing else?" His tone was casual, but his eyes, sharp, probing.

She glanced away, down at the headline on the paper someone had left on the break room table. "Uh… no. No."

"Too bad."

She shrugged. "Well, I've still got another month."

"That's the spirit," he encouraged. "I'm sure there's _someone_ out there."

She gave him a pointed look.

To distract her, Nigel quickly began his own recap of some of his recent encounters, which were a lot more adventurous than Jordan's. He soon had her laughing.

As she wiped tears out of her eyes, she gasped out, "And really? It was your _hip_ bone?"

Nodding, Nigel gave her a wide smile.

"Guess you don't have to worry about osteoporosis then?" Jordan was still giggling.

"No," he chuckled out. "But I'm thinking about getting her some glasses!"

Shaking her head and chuckling, Jordan made for her office, knowing she had a stack of paperwork Garret wanted completed. She worked steadily for nearly an hour, her eyes stealing over to her computer's monitor only every few minutes. When she found herself staring at the screen, her mind a thousand miles away – _no, more like … somewhere in the city of Boston… wherever **he** is_ – she gave in to temptation, mentally promising she was just going to check to see if maybe, just maybe, he'd left her a message.

If he had, she wouldn't read it. She'd save it for later.

As the dating site came up, she realized she was holding her breath. Letting it out in a great rush, she told herself to get a grip. She grinned when she saw she had a message. Despite her hopeful smile, trepidation still skittered along her nerves. It could be from some other… potential.

She clicked the link to her inbox and saw his name.

For a moment her finger hovered over the mouse key. She was going to save this for later.

Sure she was.

Click.

Okay, she'd read it. But she wouldn't answer. She'd save _that_ for later.

Her grin broadened as she read his message.

_If we keep up with these late nite chat sessions, we're going to have to meet at the Daily Grind just to keep our eyes open at work. Or at least I am. g Not that I'm complaining. Speaking of meeting, think we can try again? I don't want to scare you off, but there's something about you. I can't explain it. I know we've never seen other, but I feel like I know you and like you know me. That hasn't happened very often to me. LOL. Sorry, this is a little deep for morning, isn't it? Think about it? Meeting, I mean._

She sat back in her chair, her grin had faded, only to be replaced by a shy smile that played peek-a-boo with her mouth the way a child might with a favorite grown up. Guilt nudged its foot in the door of her memory as she recalled the few times she'd felt so at ease with a man. Resolutely, she pushed away those thoughts, especially the traitorous one that whispered to her of the _last_ time he'd put that look on her face. The Lucy Carver Inn.

No, no, _no_. That was over. Not with a bang, but with a whimper. Her expression soured slightly. Or maybe it had ended with a bang – several in fact. She shook her head. Whatever had happened, she was done with the post mortem. She'd had more than enough time to dissect the whole relationship, to examine the signs, to study the damage done. She'd let him go. That was one reason she was doing the whole internet dating thing, after all.

She let her eyes drift back to HarborRunner's message. Her smile returned, its edges a little frayed, but easily mended she assured herself. She read the note one more time and hit the "reply" button before remembering she'd pledged not to answer it right then.

_Like I'll be able to concentrate on anything if I don't!_ That seemed as good a justification as any, so she let her fingers fly over the keyboard.

"LOL! Maybe you need someone to bring you coffee and a bear claw…."

Jordan groaned and deleted the text. Too many memories there. She squared her shoulders and started again.

_LOL! I had to have a double double shot this morning just to make it to work. Not that I'm complaining either. I enjoy 'talking' to you, and one of my co-workers thinks I'm hooking up and not admitting it! As for meeting, of course, I'd like to try again. It's probably a little weird, but I have the same feeling you do. Maybe there's something to be said for this IMing thing, getting to know each other without any pressure. Why don't you pick the time? Is the Daily Grind still okay? I'd better go – there's some paperwork calling my name. I'm calling it some names, too. Bureaucracy… ain't it a bitch? 'See' you tonite?_

She reread it and then hit send before she could change anything. How could she feel this close to someone she'd never actually seen? Whose real name she didn't know? Sure, her past was littered with strangers and nameless bedmates, but none of them had known anything about her and she'd known as much about them. HarborRunner was different. He'd slipped his way past her usual defenses, landing squarely in her personal space, the place from which she usually fled. Oddly, she didn't have the slightest desire to run from him.

* * *

By seven-thirty, Jordan had eaten a quick dinner, showered and put on comfortable pajamas and was ensconced on her couch with her laptop perched on her drawn-up knees. She logged on and was greeted with the message that HarborRunner was online.

_HarborRunner35: Hey, babe._

_ICdeadpeople: Hey, yourself._

_HarbourRunner35: Who won the name-calling contest?_

For a moment Jordan stared at the screen, flummoxed. Then, she grinned.

_ICdeadpeople: It was a close one, but I did._

_HarbourRunner35: I'm not surprised._

_ICdeadpeople: Really? My boss was._

_HarbourRunner35: LOL! Not a fan of the paperwork?_

_ICdeadpeople: Is anyone?_

_HarbourRunner35: I've heard rumors. Some guy in Kansas._

_ICdeadpeople: Yeah, well, we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto._

_HarbourRunner35::groan::_

_ICdeadpeople: Sorry. I couldn't resist. I hope your day was more interesting._

_HarborRunner35::groan:: Paperwork would have been better._

_ICdeadpeople: That bad?_

_HarborRunner35: Not bad. Not really. Just that touchy-feely crap we all have to do every once in a while, you know?_

_ICdeadpeople: Prove we're not going to snap and do something 'inappropriate?' g _

_HarborRunner35: LOL. Exactly. I have to tell you, I really hate that stuff. I just want to do my job._

_ICdeadpeople: Same here._

They chatted vaguely for a while about some of the demands of their respective, unnamed jobs, pleased to find each other on the same page when it came to a lot of the hoops a person had to jump through anymore. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Jordan typed:

_ICdeadpeople: So is it an annual thing or something? The touchy-feely crap?_

For a long moment, he didn't respond. Jordan cursed mildly, just knowing she'd stepped too far. Then the text in the box shifted upwards, his reply pushing away at her question.

_HarborRunner35: Not annual, really. I've had a few things happen in the last couple of years._

_ICdeadpeople: OIC._

_HarborRunner35: I'll tell you about them. I want to. After we've met. Some of it is stuff I don't want to talk about this way. Is that okay?_

_ICdeadpeople: Yeah. Sure._

_HarborRunner35: So about meeting. What do you think about tomorrow? After work?_

_ICdeadpeople: At the Daily Grind?_

_HarborRunner35: Yeah._

_ICdeadpeople: Mine'll have to be decaf!_

_HarborRunner35: LOL! Is that a yes?_

_ICdeadpeople: Yeah. What time?_

He named a time, and Jordan negotiated for half an hour later.

_ICdeadpeople: How will I know you?_

_HarborRunner35: I'll be coming from work._

_ICdeadpeople: Me too._

_HarborRunner35: I'll wear a Sox tie and have that DVD of their Series victory._

_ICdeadpeople: Okay._

The conversation shifted to other topics after that, and once again, they stayed up too late "talking," enjoying each other too much to say their goodnights.

* * *

"Come on, Garret! Not today." Jordan protested, her voice insistent, her eyes pleading.

"Jordan, I need my best M.E. on this one." He eyed her. "Do you have somewhere you have to be?"

She sighed.

"Look, if this is Phillip Tooms' work then you know what it's going to be like. I know you want to nail the bastard as much as I do, as the cops do. And we all want to evidence to stick this time."

Groaning, she gave in, visions of a man in a suit with a Red Sox tie sitting at the coffee shop waiting for her. He'd think it was payback, that she'd really been angry and just playing him. Then an idea struck her. "I've got – uh – one thing to take care of, okay?"

"Make it quick." Garret relented when he saw the real disappointment in her eyes. "Please."

Jordan closed her office door behind her and pulled out her cell phone. She called Information and got the number to the Daily Grind. A woman answered, probably the cute blonde Jordan had chatted with while she'd been the one waiting. "Hi. Uh… wow, this is awkward. I'm supposed to be meeting someone there… about… now. And – um…."

"The guy with the Red Sox tie and the DVD?"

Jordan groaned to herself. "Yeah." Her voice dropped another notch. "That's him. Could you – Could you tell him that – um – that I can't make it? Something came up at work."

The girl hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"I don't really have a choice."

"Too bad."

"Why?" Jordan's voice was sharp.

"'Cause, wow! He's hot! I mean, it's kinda hard to tell since he's got a suit on, but I'm betting he works out. Washboard abs, you know? I mean, we're talking tall, dark and wicked handsome."

Another groan from Jordan. "Yeah. I'm sure. You mind telling him?"

"Not at all!"

The M.E. had visions of the blonde scampering over to HarborRunner35 and introducing herself, mentioning she got off at eight (or whenever) and, "Oh, yeah, by the way, some lady just called; she can't make it tonight. Something about work."

All Jordan could think was that once she gave BPD and the DA all the evidence they wanted, they'd better manage to lock up Phillip Tooms – or whoever the perpetrator was – or she'd be autopsying their bodies next!

* * *

It was almost midnight when Jordan got home. She sighed wearily and thought lovingly of her current winey companion, a handsome, subtle New Zealander who hailed from the Marlborough region and went by the melodious name of Sauvignon Blanc. She poured herself a glass as she booted up her laptop. She knew he wouldn't be online, but she could leave him a message and apologize.

To her shock, almost the moment her IM came up, there was a message.

_HarborRunner35: Just get home?_

_ICdeadpeople: Yeah. I'm really sorry about tonight. _She hit enter and then continued._ My boss-_

She didn't get to finish.

_HarborRunner35: It's okay. That was pretty smart calling the coffee shop. Wish I'd thought of that._

Jordan blushed, glad that you can't really stammer online.

_ICdeadpeople: Thanks. I'm glad you got the message. Look, if you want to give up on this, I understand._

_HarborRunner35: Giving up already? You're more persistent than that! It took the Sox 86 years to win another Series._

_ICdeadpeople: RU saying it's going to take us 86 years to meet?_

_HarborRunner35: LOL! I hope not. But at least we could tie balloons or something to our walkers to help us find each other._

_ICdeadpeople: ROTFL! We'd have to be careful not to drop our dentures in the coffee._

_HarborRunner35: And make sure our hearing aids are turned all the way up._

_ICdeadpeople: You're really not mad, RU?_

_HarborRunner35: No. It's okay. Let's say we're even and the next time will be the charm, okay?_

_ICdeadpeople: Okay._

_HarborRunner35: You must be really tired. I'd love to talk more, but it's probably better not to, right?_

Jordan frowned slightly. She'd been tired when she'd walked – no, trudged – through the door, but now she felt invigorated.

_ICdeadpeople: Actually, I feel pretty awake._

_HarborRunner35: Yeah? You wanna talk a bit then?_

Jordan easily lost track of time, letting the ebb and flow of their conversation carry her along. She shivered slightly in anticipation when he confessed he'd been trying to imagine what she looked like and had to admit that the girl at the Daily Grind had given her a vague idea of what _he_ looked like. She excused herself for a moment, giving him some coy, but polite excuse, about nature and calling. She was stunned to find sunrise staining the sky a faint pink. She mentioned as much when she rejoined their conversation.

_HarborRunner35: I have this crazy idea._

_ICdeadpeople: Just one? People say I have several a day._

_HarborRunner: Well, wanna share this one with me?_

_ICdeadpeople: I don't know. What is it?_

_HarborRunner35: The Daily Grind opens in half an hour._

Jordan hesitated, but only for a moment.

_ICdeadpeople: I'll be the one ordering a double double shot._

_HarborRunner: I'll be the one buying it for you._

She logged off.

The moment of truth… what if he was like the others? What if they just didn't click in "real life?" What if…? What if…?

What if he was everything he seemed to be?


	7. Brunette Seeks A Little SaltFree TLC

**Chapter 7**

**Brunette Seeks A Little Salt-Free TLC**

Woody thanked the traffic-light gods as he pulled in The Daily Grind parking lot, with seconds to spare. He double-checked the knot in his BoSox tie in the rearview mirror and palmed the vendor-wrapped bouquet of flowers (courtesy of an all night grocery) from the passenger seat of his car. He hoped she liked pink. They were out of anything purple.

Crazy. He was crazy to be doing something so..._crazy_. Woody felt like he was in high school again. Only this time he was spending all night talking to a new girl online, instead of a telephone...and his old man wasn't outside the door yelling at him to get off because he had school in the morning. He didn't have to worry about staying awake through fifth period literature, but he _did_ have to deal with a midday briefing. _HarborRunner_'d be ordering a double, double too.

As if he needed caffeine. Woody felt like he was wired for sound. If he didn't know any better he'd say he was half in love with this woman and he didn't even know her name. She could either be the best thing, or the worst, to happen to him in a very long time.

The last time he made that particular comparison another pretty doctor was involved. He knew _ICdeadpeople_ was pretty. The busboy at the coffee shop was more that willing to give him a few details after he slipped him a twenty. As long as her name was Jolene, Josephine or Georgiana, Woody was ready and willing to keep an open mind. He needed this. He was _beyond_ needing this.

The bell over the coffee shop door was still heralding his entrance when he phone rang. "Oh hell no..."

* * *

"Not only no, but hell no," she said into her phone, staring at the umpteen-thousandth red light she'd hit since leaving her apartment. It took her a half-hour just to shower and change...then add on the twenty minute drive (which by the clock on her dash...was already pushing close to twenty five) and Jordan was already late. Very late. "And don't even pull that I-need-the-best line on me this morning Garret, because it won't work. Call someone else." 

Garret didn't miss a beat. "It's only three blocks away from your apartment."

And she was about three blocks from The Daily Grind. "Send Peter."

"He's just coming off a double. Besides it sounds like you're already in the car."

Jordan swore under her breath, cursing the engine knock her mechanic still can't find. It was loud enough to hear in Cambridge when she stepped on the accelerator.

"The transport will meet you there." She could tell by Garret's tone he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Karma..." she mumbled pressing "End" on her phone and putting her signal on for a U-turn. She picked her way back downtown thumbing though her recent calls. If this kept up she'd have to put the coffee shop on speed dial.

* * *

Frustrated didn't even come close describing how Woody felt. He ripped the BoSox tie off and threw it in the back seat of his car. 

"You've got to be freaking kidding me," he growled at Seeley, the other homicide detective that seemed to have drawn the short straw that morning.

"Nope," Seeley drawled, looking about as annoyed. "Trust me; I just spent the last five minutes looking for Alan Funt and his cameras. There is no body, no crime, not so much as a report of an alarm clock turned up to loud. Nothing but a handful of residents that are ready to call the Mayor's Office after being roused by the police at the crack of dawn. It's pretty obvious Hoyt. We've got the wrong address."

"What's dispatch saying?"

"They're looking into it. Until then we are ordered to stand-by," he said, folding his arms looking like he'd rather be doing anything other then leaning against Woody's Chevelle.

"Stand-by...great." Woody ran his hand through his hair.

A half dozen uniformed officers, A CSU team, and a Morgue Transport Vehicle were also 'standing by'_. All dressed up and no place to go..._ Only he did. Or used to. He left the flowers and a big tip with the girl at the coffee shop counter to make sure _she_ got them, along with her double double. Woody was debating on calling the coffee shop to make sure when Matt tapped his shoulder.

There was only person that could make this morning a total disaster and she was pulling up behind the meat wagon. The engine of the Camino sounded like it was going to die at any moment. He told her to have it looked at. He offered to look at himself. He didn't like her driving around like that. If he had his way...

Jordan slammed her car door. More than one head snap up. It didn't take a detective to see that Jordan was about as happy as everyone else. He didn't want to be the one to tell her there wasn't any body. He valued his life...and his balls.

"Aw, man."

"Smiles everyone, smiles..." Matt cracked. Only this wasn't _Fantasy Island_ and Jordan didn't look like she was dressed for a tropical vacation. Although she looked very nice. Not that she didn't _always_ look nice, he augmented to himself, but oddly nice for six AM.

"You deal with her," Woody whispered Matt, pleading. "I didn't get any sleep last night, not to mention enough coffee this morning."

"_You_ deal with her," Matt shot back. "There is not enough coffee in the world to explain this one. Besides you owe me for taking that call from Springfield the yesterday while you were busy hooking up."

"_What...?" _

"Don't try to tell me that IM you were so busy with was work related. If it were a year ago I'd say you were chatting up the doc over there. You had the sappy Cavanaugh look you had on your face. The question is," Matt added with a smirk "Does she have a friend?"

Woody rolled his eyes. It was his first instinct was to deny he was having a personal conversation when the call from another department came in. (Or that he _ever_ wore a-sappy- Cavanaugh-look for that matter.) He was chatting with someone about bureaucratic paperwork, which talking to Springfield would inevitably turn out to be anyway. He sighed. It was either stand there and listen to Matt Seeley give him crap about a harmless round of email tag or deal with Jordan. A classic no win situation.

"Even if I knew she had a friend, you'd be the last person I'd be introducing to her." he mumbled, pushing away from the car to meet Jordan head on.

"Is the city on strike and nobody bothered to invite me?" Jordan asked, regarding what should be a busy crime scene. "Because I would have volunteered to bring the picket signs."

"There's been a little...snafu."

She looked at him suspiciously. "How _little_ is little?"

"We're still looking for the crime scene."

"I beg your pardon?" she said, her pre-coffee frown firmly in place.

Woody explained what he knew up to this point. Jordan couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. Professionalism kicked in. At least it kicked into a point.

"So in other words, as we speak, somewhere in this city there is a possible crime scene...that is undoubtedly being compromised...oh, not to mention a corpse beginning to really smell...and we're supposed to stand around here until dispatch pulls its head out of its butt."

"That about sums it up."

"I didn't need this this morning." Jordan said peevishly. She checked her watch and mentally mapped the way back to the coffee shop even though she knew it was already too late. An action Woody didn't miss.

"Are we interrupting something important?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"As a matter of fact, yes. I was having breakfast with someone."

Woody's own breakfast plans were forgotten. _Breakfast?_ She never wore perfume when they went out for breakfast. Whoever the call torn her away from this morning was probably still warming a bed somewhere.

"Well, damn your bad luck..."

"You don't know the half of it," she mumbled under her breath.

"Frankly, I don't want to know." he said with sarcasm thicker than the coffee he was missing.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Hey," he said flatly. "What you do on your off time is none of my business..."

She gave him a guarded look. "You're right about that."

"But **this **is," he added, pointing to the squad cars to the side of them. "It's obvious you've got better things to do. So, if you want to get back to...whatever. No problem. I call someone else in."

"Woody, if you've got something to say to me, say it," she said coolly.

"I just hope he's not some sleazy-bag reporter this time," he felt complied to point out.

Jordan's jaw dropped at his rudeness. "Some how I don't think it would really make any difference."

"You know what? You're not the only one that was inconvenienced this morning. I happened to have had plans myself." he said cheekily.

"I guess you'd better get this..._snafu _straighten out Detective Hoyt, so we can get on with it."

Jordan mentally gave herself credit for at least trying to keep professional and up with the task on hand. Woody could piss her off better than any human being on the planet.

Woody turned heel and yelled for an update. In a matter of seconds they had an accurate address. Ironically, the correct location was less then a mile away from the coffee shop.

* * *

Woody stood across the autopsy table from Jordan and rocked back and forth on his heels. . It seemed like it was the only place they knew were each other stood. Coroner, Cop. Cop, Coroner. Their conversation neatly compartmentalized...cause, means and motive. Benign. Vanilla as it could get under the circumstances. 

When did they stop communicating? A real conversation. No compression fractures or subcutaneous hemorrhaging. They used to talk about little things like the color of his tie and the latest blockbuster they planned to see when they could catch a few hours off together. He missed that. He missed it more then he ever realized. Woody waited until she began to close before he brought up that morning.

"I want to apologize for earlier. I didn't mean to come down on you so hard. It was uncalled for and totally inappropriate."

"It was a messed up situation," she shrugged.

"Still, I should have never called you out about your personal life. It really is none of my business. "

"Don't worry about it. No damage done," Jordan said thinking about the simple bunch of flowers stuffed in a paper coffee cup sitting in her office.

She justified the side trip to The Grind by telling herself she had planned to go there anyway. The caffeine would keep her awake for the drive to the morgue. The truth was she needed a little pick-me-up from Woody's patronizing attitude and the prepaid coffee and flowers were exactly what she needed.

"I...I" he said, his voice gave out after only one word. He coughed to cover. "Ah, just want you to know that I do care...about you Jordan. I just hope this guy, whoever he is, treats you like very special woman you are."

"Thank you," she nodded over her stitching. It was safer then looking at him. "That means more to me than you know."

"I mean it Jordan. You deserve someone who loves you for who you are."

"A complicated head case who has a tendency to run off every man who comes within fifty yards of her?" she smirked baldly.

"No," he smiled softly. "You're a complex woman who any man, in his right mind, would willingly give his left arm to earn the right to be perplexed by you every day."

"Right mind, left arm. There's a lesson on brain function in there somewhere," she quipped dryly.

"I'm serious Jordan. I think we both need someone who will put up with our...crap."

"Maybe we do," she said, wishing she had something other to say then the truth.

"I think I've met someone too." he mentioned, his tone far from self-congratulatory. It sounded more like a sinner's confession.

"Really?" Jordan asked, finally looking up at him.

"It's too early to really tell. But yeah, I think I have," he said his voice more resolute than the expression on his face.

"Wow, that's...great," she said carefully, equably. "I guess this is where I'm supposed to say...I hope she's everything you want Woody."

"Me too." he nodded. "And I hope, well, I hope this guy is the right one. I hope he can make you happy."

Woody turned heel She called out to him before he could reach the door. "Friends?" she asked.

He looked back at her, his smile warm and genuine. "Always Jordan Cavanaugh."

Neither of them thought this would be the day they'd come to this particular cross road but here they were. A relationship that almost was, was finally coming to an end. Not with a bang or a whimper, but a courteous hope for good luck.

* * *

_HarborRunner35: Have you ever had one of those days that wouldn't think twice about pawning everything you own and buying a one-way ticket on the first flight out to anywhere?_

_ICdeadpeople: It's the main reason I keep a travel link on my favorites page. They have a knack of having that first flight out, on sale, and going someplace decidedly warm. _

_HarborRunner35: Warm sounds good. Some place with miles of sunny beaches. _

_ICdeadpeople: And oceans of añejos tequila. ::wink:: _

_HarborRunner35: A woman after my own heart. _

_ICdeadpeople: So you want me to book the flight? _

_HarborRunner35: Don't tempt me. I may take you up on it._

_ICdeadpeople: J/K. My day pretty well sucked too. I had a fight with a good friend today. Our friendship's been on and off life-support for awhile now. _

_HarborRunner35: I take it the plug was pulled._

_ICdeadpeople: I don't know, maybe. I just know it'll never be the way it used to be. _

_HarborRunner35: I'm sorry to hear that. It must be the day for it. I put my foot into it with an old friend myself. It sucks. I know how you feel about thinking you've lost them.I really screwed up this time. _

_ICdeadpeople: The moon must be full or something._

_HarborRunner35: Probably. All I know is I really needed this tonight. Talking to you that is. g_

_ICdeadpeople: Me too. I'm glad you're here._

_HarborRunner35: Me too. Okay! Enough of that! Subject change. Please. _

_ICdeadpeople: I got your flowers. They're very pretty. Thanks:)_

_HarborRunner35: You were able to swing by The Grind? I think the manager there is starting a pool on how many times we can miss each other. _

_ICdeadpeople: I know. I put a dollar down myself. _

_HarborRunner35: LOL. I hope you put down 86 years. _

_ICdeadpeople: Not when we can be on a flight out of here in less then an hour. Besides you know what they say about the third time. _

_HarborRunner35: Three strikes and you're out?_

_ICdeadpeople: Ha. Ha. Very funny. _

_HarborRunner35: So you really want to tempt Fate and try again? I'm free right now. The Grind doesn't close until 10 and you don't have to worry about if your carry-on will fit in the overhead compartment. _

_ICdeadpeople: g I'd love to, but I really don't think I'd be good company tonight. I'm beat._

_HarborRunner35: True, I'm dragging myself _

_ICdeadpeople: I think we need to side-step this Fate thing and try some place new. I'm off this weekend._

_HarborRunner35: You're not serious about the 1st flight out are you? _

_ICdeadpeople: LOL . No, even though sand, sun and tequila sounds really nice after the day I've had, but I was thinking maybe dinner. If you're free, of course._

_HarborRunner35: I didn't think you went for dinners for a first FTF._

_ICdeadpeople: I believe Fate has our # when it comes to The Grind. _

_HarborRunner35: Believe it or not, I'm off this weekend too. And I'd love to have dinner with you. Only if we both promise to leave our phones off. _

_ICdeadpeople: NP, I tossed mine in the trash can earlier. _

_HarborRunner35: That'd be a bitch if you didn't opt for the service contract when you bought it. _

_ICdeadpeople: Something like that._

_HarborRunner35: There sounds like there's a story in there somewhere but I'll have you save it for dinner. Where do you want to meet?_

_ICdeadpeople: Some place dark. These circles under my eyes go away in candlelight. _

_HarborRunner35: There's this little place downtown...

* * *

_


	8. “I Have Been Blind” Seeks Lady in Red

**Chapter 8**

"**I Have Been Blind" Seeks Lady in Red **

Jordan nervously redressed for the third time. She wanted to make a good first impression and it was a dinner date. So her favorite jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt was out. The skirt and jacket made her look like she was getting ready to testify in court. Finally she pulled out an old favorite…a wardrobe staple she hadn't worn in several years. There had been no reason to. But it never failed to "Wow" the masses.

That red dress….

_Hot damn_.

His voice came floating back to her over a string of memories and years.

_I mean, you have a lovely daughter, Mr. Cavanaugh…_

He tried to dig his way out of that one. And Woody's attempt brought a pair of raised eyebrows from Max, but the older man already had such a genuine affection for the green detective that it didn't matter.

Jordan had heard the comment in her ear piece and chuckled to herself, knowing full well that while it was a common fact already that Detective Hoyt had the Wisconsin hots for the female Boston ME, Jordan wasn't biting.

Of course two years later changed everything. He was the one running from her then. And now…now….well, now she wasn't sure their friendship could even be resuscitated. She zipped up the dress and smoothed her hands over her hips.

_People fall in love and out of love all the time, Jordan. You go where your heart takes you…_

She shook her head as she carefully applied her make up and brushed out her curls. She was going on a date. A dinner date. With _HarborRunner35_. A man who seemingly knew her as well, if not better than she knew herself. A man who knew her nearly as well as Woody Hoyt did.

Damn. She had to get his voice out of her head. Now. Idly she hoped _Harbor_'_s_ real name wasn't Wilson or Will or anything like that. And there couldn't be another Woody in all of Boston. Cupid couldn't be that cruel.

She closed and locked her big, red apartment door and headed downtown to the restaurant.

* * *

Blue.

There was no question. The blue suit was it. It was his newest and most expensive one. And he had taken the trouble to buy a new shirt (and high quality one – one he wouldn't keep in the drawer of his desk) and a _tasteful_ tie.

Renee' Walcott even told him he looked good in it. And the lady did not give out compliments everyday. More like….once a year. If you're lucky.

So Woody now considered the suit a good luck charm. Maybe it would help him make a good impression on _ICdeadpeople_. Maybe a good enough first impression that she'd let him make a second and a third one.

He nursed his glass of water at the bar of Giovanni's. He promised he'd meet her here about a quarter of seven. Their reservations were for seven fifteen. That would give them thirty minutes to size each other up. At the end of the half hour, if things weren't clicking, they had promised each other they would part ways, no hard feelings, and would still talk to each other on line.

As friends.

Another female he may have to dash romantic ideas about on the rocks of friendship. A pair of whiskey-colored eyes suddenly flitted across his mind, accusing him of doing the same thing to her after she had handed him her heart.

He closed his own blue eyes. Of all the evenings in his life, this was the one that Jordan Cavanaugh could _not_ in any way, shape, or form, intrude on. She had found someone else. She had admitted that to him today. Now it was time for him to move on with his own life without her…without those eyes…and those lips…and that body…

"Fancy meeting you here."

Woody's eyes snapped open as the voice behind the eyes spoke to him. For a split second, Woody would have sworn he was hallucinating. Slowly he turned.

"Jordan. What are you doing here?" God, she was wearing _that_ dress…not_ that_ dress… please God…Now Woody knew that _ICdeadpeople_ would have to work overtime to keep his attention because Jordan would be filling it with visions of her in that dress….and him trying to take it off. _Why did it have to be that dress?_

"I'm…I'm…meeting someone…" she managed to stammer out, realizing that he wasn't the least bit pleased to see her.

"Yeah, well….me, too."

"Oh." She rocked back on her heels. Damn. It was bad enough he was in her head while she was getting dressed. Now he had materialized in front of her and looked good enough to eat in that blue suit. The idle thought flitted through her head that she might like to do that very thing…

She squelched the thought. _HarborRunner…HarborRunner….HarborRunner_ she chanted to herself. If he was half as good looking as he was easy to talk to, Jordan could see herself changing the single-status on her profile with the dating service. "The woman you told me about today?" she managed to ask.

Woody nodded. "The guy you told me about?"

Jordan nodded in return, nervously fidgeting with her purse. God, this was awkward. And uncomfortable. "I'll just go wait…" she motioned to a table right outside the bar

area.

Woody watched her as she left and hesitantly sat down at the table, facing the door. He turned his attention back to his water and then his watch. It was now seven o'clock and no _ICdeadpeople_. Anxiously he flipped out his cell phone to check his e-mail. As he had promised _IC_, he had turned off the cell phone off. Woody hit the power button and flicked through the new e-mails in his box. None were from _IC_. _Maybe she's just running late…._

Seven-ten. No _IC_. Surreptitiously Woody glanced at Jordan. Her date hadn't shown up either. She was still sitting at the table. Alone.

And it hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks. He should have known by the screen name. For a moment he cursed his own ignorance. Leaving his water glass at the bar, he walked up to the table and pulled out a chair, sitting down across from her.

"_ICdeadpeople?" _he asked.

Her jaw dropped. _"HarborRunner35?"_

Woody nodded.

Jordan swallowed hard. "Fancy meeting you here," she repeated from earlier, in a much weaker voice.


	9. Come on Baby, Light My Fire

**Chapter Nine **

**Come on, Baby, Light my Fire**

"Wow, um… you know… wow," Woody stammered.

"Yeah," Jordan agreed softly, her voice small and sad.

"Who would have guessed?"

Her mouth curved down into a bitter frown. "Neither of us, apparently."

"You know, Jordan, maybe this is – uh – Cupid. Trying to tell us something."

"'Get a cat,'" she murmured.

"What?"

She waved the question away. In her mind she was already trying to decide if she should start slow, maybe get some pedigreed breed from a fancy breeder or just give in to her crazy-spinster-down-the-hall-with-all-the-cats future and go all in, get the homeliest shelter stray she could find. Maybe two.

"Look, this is awkward, I know-"

She arched an eyebrow at him.

He ignored it. "Awkward and… and uncomfortable-"

"Isn't that what awkward means?"

This time he glared at her. "Can't we at least have dinner? This could – I mean, online… you and – and I… it worked so well!" He twisted his hands together restlessly, bumping the silverware with his wrists.

She gazed at him for a minute and then reached across the table to take his hands. "That's the problem, Woody. You and I… we always work well on – on paper. It's been the real thing that never seems to go so well." She released his hands and stood up. "See you around."

He watched her go, unable to protest, unable to call her back, unable even to will his feet to carry him after her. Her words had hit him in the gut. The hell of it was she wasn't exactly wrong.

* * *

Jordan went into work early the next day. No time like the present to catch up on paperwork, she figured. Besides, at home it was too tempting to turn on her laptop and check to see if _he_ had e-mailed. It was too tempting to think about e-mailing him, trying to salvage what they could, the friendship maybe. At home there were too many reminders of the evenings spent chatting online, a glass of wine or bottle of beer in hand, unknowingly sharing pieces of herself with a man who'd already seen all she had to offer and walked away. It didn't matter that he'd seemed as shocked as she'd been or that he'd seemed interested in rekindling whatever used to be between them. Jordan simply couldn't risk taking that path again.

She'd rather peruse the classifieds for homeless tabbies in need of love and attention.

She was getting ready for her first autopsy of the day when Nigel came in. He grinned at her and greeted her with his usual cheer. "So," he began, his voice running up and down the vocal scale over the one syllable. "That dating trial is almost over, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Almost over." _Technically anyway. Believe me, as of last night, it was over for me._

"Any prospects?" He waggled his eyebrows.

She shrugged.

"Oh, come on, you can tell me, luv. I know there was someone."

"Not really." She kept her voice cool.

"Yeah, there was. You were smitten."

"What would give you that impression?" Her reaction was sharper than intended and she saw Nigel flinch. "Sorry," she muttered.

The Brit let it go for the time being. To suggest that Jordan didn't hide her feelings very well would be a gross understatement. She may have thought she did, but he could usually read her like a book. Something wasn't making sense though. He'd try it again a bit later.

A bit later turned out to be over a second autopsy when Jordan apologized for her earlier abruptness. "Hey, didn't you have a date last night? I mean, that would explain it-"

"No!"

Nigel's brows went up. "No? I thought-"

"Yes. I had a date. It didn't work out. End of story."

He nodded slightly and decided to push. Whatever was bugging her was out of the ordinary. "Sorry to hear that, luv. You _were_ pretty taken with this one, weren't you?"

"I never said that."

Nigel grinned. "Right. You never do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She thumped the dead woman's lungs into the weighing pan with more force than was strictly necessary.

He watched her. _My, my, touched a nerve_. "Exactly what I said. When you're… interested in someone, you have this habit of changing the subject, getting sarcastic and, dare I say, touchy when that someone is mentioned."

She rolled her eyes. "Nige, if you hadn't noticed, I tend to be sarcastic and touchy in general."

"Luv," he said softly. "I know you."

She countered. "I seem to recall talking about Tyler."

Nigel chuckled. "Yeah. Because Tyler didn't really mean anything to you. Not in the long run. Not like Pollack."

She started to reply and then thought better of it. He did know her pretty well. He'd been the one who had so succinctly called her on the way she had been sabotaging her budding relationship with the reporter. His not-so-gentle chiding had goaded her into proving him wrong. Pollack may not have been a perfect match for her, but he'd been important in his way.

"Not like Woody," Nigel added.

Jordan looked up at him with eyes suddenly awash in tears she refused to let fall. "I don't want to talk about – about him." She swallowed heavily.

"You're going to have to some time."

"Well," she told him resolutely, "not today."

They finished the autopsy in silence.

* * *

Woody, too, went in to work early. He had e-mailed Jordan. And IM'd her. The fact she was clearly going to avoid him wasn't exactly a shock. He figured maybe if he was Johnny-on-the-spot when some call came in and he could request a certain, dark-haired M.E…. she couldn't avoid him then.

He'd underestimated her. Again. He should have learned by now, but he hadn't really wanted to, he guessed.

She not only managed to duck his request for her presence that day, but for the next two weeks. She also seemed to have developed a sixth sense regarding his intentions. Every time he stopped at the Morgue to try to catch her and have a talk they desperately needed to have, she had either just left on a case, worked a double and wasn't there or was otherwise occupied.

He grumbled to himself after his latest attempt. "This place must have a secret exit. She sees me coming and heads right for it."

"What was that, mate?"

Woody flinched. How was it that Nigel was so good at sneaking up on people? The detective shrugged. "Nothing. I keep trying to catch Jordan…."

The Brit laughed. "That's hardly news. Going on – what is it? – five years now?"

"No, I – uh – No. Not like that."

Nigel arched an eyebrow.

"Well," Woody sighed heavily. "Okay, yeah. Like that. Sort of. It's – It's complicated."

Now Nige laughed. "Again, not really news, mate." He gave the other man an appraising look. "All right then, tell Uncle Nigel all about it."

That earned Nigel a snort. "There's nothing to tell. We – We – uh – bumped into each other at dinner. A couple weeks ago."

"And…?" Nigel gestured for Woody to continue.

"And nothing. We each had a reason for being where we were and it – it sort of turned out it was the same reason."

Nigel's jaw unhinged slowly and comprehension rose in his eyes. "You were the bloke!"

"What?"

"The bloke she wouldn't talk about! From the dating service trial!"

Woody turned the color of a fire engine. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on. No shame in admitting you gave it a shot." Nige rubbed his hands together in glee. "And you and Jordan? Totally by accident?" The Brit laughed richly.

"Yeah, very funny. She's been avoiding me ever since."

Nigel canted his head to one side. "Well, I can imagine the shock. It would be a little disconcerting to find out the person with whom one was smitten online was the very same person one was trying to get over."

For a minute Woody didn't reply. "She said that?"

That earned the detective another shrug. "She didn't have to. Not to me, anyway." He put a hand on Woody's arm. "Oh, Woodrow, don't despair. Our dear girl will come around. Just give her a little time." He stopped. "A little more time."

Before Woody could reply, Lily poked her head into Trace. "Nigel- oh, hi, Woody."

He raised a hand in greeting, his mind still trying to wrap itself around what Nigel had said.

Lily turned back to her co-worker. "Where's Jordan?"

"Wherever I'm not," Woody muttered.

Nigel threw him a sharp look. "She took that call at the Stafford Arms. Why?"

"Damn." Lily shook her head. "I lost the office pool _again_."

Nigel straightened up and groaned.

Woody gave them both confused looks. "Office pool?"

The Brit took a deep breath. "On how long it would take Jordan to get herself in the middle of some dangerous situation." He looked at Lily. "What's the story?"

"Oh, well, I think it's actually sort of new for Jordan. Some guy apparently found his wife with her boyfriend at the Stafford Arms and shot them both. When the police – and, of course, Jordan – got there, he pulled a knife, held them back and poured gasoline all over himself."

"And Jordan's the one trying to talk him out of it?" Woody guessed.

"Who else?" The grief counselor replied with a sigh.

Woody decided there was no place he'd rather be than the Stafford Arms.


	10. A Zippo and a Hard Place

**Chapter 10**

**Between a Zippo and a Hard Place**

Even with his CME tags, Garret parked half a block away from the Stafford Arms. The road was clogged with vehicles ranging from fire trucks to news vans and everything in-between. Jordan's rag-tag El Camino looked out place smack dab in the middle of.

He flashed his badge and crossed the police tape fully intending to find the officer in charge when he saw Woody talking to a member of the SWAT team. He waited until he caught the detective's attention.

"I should just let her go, you know," Garret said without preamble. "I don't have much hair left as it is. I can't afford to lose any more." As much as he grumbled there was no mistaking the concerned in Garret's voice. "Any updates?"

Woody shook his head. Jordan was barricaded in a room with two dead lovers and a suicidal murderer. She thought she could talk him out of taking one more life by risking her own. To be honest, Woody wasn't all that surprised. "At least nobody's reported smelling smoke."

"Yet."

"It's one thing about Jordan, Doc...She _always_ lands on her feet. We've just got believe she knows what she's doing this time too."

* * *

_What the hell am I doing?_

The room was choking with gasoline fumes. Jordan's eyes were stinging. Her throat was burning. She cursed her fuzzy head.

She quirked a little smile thinking about a firefighter she dated once. He was the department PR poster child, touring grade schools and church groups all over the city of Atlanta. With his smoky grey eyes and honey, sweet southern accent, he lectured on fire safety issues including the combustibility of chemicals such as gasoline. Drop a match in a pool of it and it would probably go out. On the other hand...wave that same match near it and...BOOM! _Remember, it's not the puddle thata kill ya...it's the fumes. _

If she doesn't suffocate first.

Two hours ago her biggest dilemma was trying not to put a name on the reason why it was so hard to delete Woody's latest email to her junk-mail file like the rest. Now, not only was she trapped with desperate, distraught man, but there probably wasn't a dry cleaner in the entire city that would touch the clothes she was wearing.

..._and the jacket's new damnit._ _If I can get out of this in one piece the Chilean and I are going to have some serious one-on-one time..._

"Dr. Cavanaugh?" A call came from outside the door. Jordan recognized the voice as one of the uniforms that was one the scene when she arrived.

"I'm fine," she yelled back. "We're just talking in here...right John?"

"I told you once already! Leave. Us. Alone!"

Drenched with fuel, John Baker was a surprisingly frail looking man, but the knife he was carrying was anything but.

"Do as he says...please."

"Fall back!" Jordan was fairly confident the uniforms were backing off only because the SWAT team was already to step in. If she wanted to get Baker out of there alive it was up to her.

"What happened? Why are we here John?"

"I think that's pretty obvious. Don't you, Dr. Cavanaugh?"

Jordan stood by as he dragged his wife's lover's body off the bed like he was a bag of dirty laundry, dropping him against the door, blocking the exit.

"I begged her to think twice about this. We've been married less then a year. I love her so much it hurts."

Unceremoniously, he tossed the bedspread over the corpse and thrust the knife into its back as if to keep the cover in place. Jordan's seasoned stomach even rolled at the sound.

"Why?" he looked up, asking breathlessly.

"I can't answer that for her. Nobody can. Maybe, it was too much too soon. I am sure she didn't set out to intentionally hurt you. I'm just as sure she wouldn't want you to do this. You and me. We can walk out of here..."

"You sound just like her," he cut in. "She said it was too intense. She needed to step back and re-examine our relationship. _Why?_ What we had was...perfect. I'm sorry you had to see this. Jenny isn't a bad person."

John Baker then tenderly pulled the bed sheet up to cover the gaping wounds in his wife's chest, and lovingly brush the hair away from her face. "The first time I saw her I thought she looked like an angel. I asked her to marry me on our first date."

There was movement outside the door. Time was running out. Jordan needed to win his confidence. "Tell me about her John. How did you two meet?"

"It was kismet that we found each other like we did. Believe it or not, we fell in love on-line. Through a dating service."

Jordan wanted to roll her eyes. It seemed like the whole world had jumped into this web-mating thing...including the delusional ones. "Actually, I can."

"You don't sound surprised."

"It's not that uncommon these days with busy schedules, busy lives. Online dating is convenient. Sometimes the old-fashion way needs to take a back seat to time management..."

"It wasn't like that for Jenny and me. In fact it was nothing less then a true courtship. We'd spend hours discussing literature, philosophy, music. Jenny poured her soul in her words and they spoke to me with a passion I've never known before. I adored her before I ever saw her face. We found the purest kind of love and in the last place I expected it."

"It sounds like you two really connected."

"Without the distraction of the outside world, we were able to bond on a totally cerebral level. We made a conscious decision to keep our love pure, not spoil it with the natural disappointments of a physical relationship," he said, his tone almost reverent.

"You mean, you two..._never_...?"

"The quest for purity asks for sacrifices."

"Even after you were married?"

Jordan's jaw must have dropped because he addressed her like she was comprehending in some foreign language. "Of course! What we had was far beyond our earthy bodies. We were soul mates."

_And apparently one of you got tired of cold showers... _

"Have you ever been in love before Dr. Cavanaugh?

His question made her blink. "I might have been...a time or two," she replied honestly.

"No, I don't mean just two sets of glands calling out to each other."

"I thought that was what love is."

"I mean true love. Companionship, trust, affection...friendship."

Jordan didn't know what to say. She could barely admit these things to herself let alone discuss them to a killer...and anyone else listening in through the door. But the longer she kept him distracted the more likely she could get him out safely.

"Once," she shrugged. "In fact, I met him online."

"So you DO understand."

"What you and Jenny had was...yours alone," she said carefully.

"Still, you know what its like to _know_ someone without the distraction of sex,"

Jordan flashed a lopsdied smile. "Something like that."

"Tell me, please. What happened?" he prompted, and Jordan felt compelled to reply.

"_HarborRunner_ was charming...witty, compassionate...understanding," she smiled uncomfortably. "Everything I didn't realize I wanted in someone special...until I got to know him. He came into my life when I was trying to forget someone else. For awhile there, I thought I was falling for him...it just wasn't the _right_ love."

"You still had feelings for this other person. I'm sorry."

"Perhaps," she shrugged. "Woody and I shared something built over time and experience. We saw each other at our best and worst. We didn't have the luxury to hide behind a carefully worded email.

"We went through some rough times and didn't come through unhurt. Still, he was there for me...even when it seemed like he wasn't. I just never really appreciated it. The same way he had a hard time understanding me. I've treated him like crap, but it wouldn't surprise me to find out he's right outside this building ready to kick my ass for being in here."

"I'd never hurt my Jenny. Never." John said indignantly.

"I know," she said calmly. "I know you didn't mean for this to happen. I can help you John, if you only let me."

"I'm sorry you had to get involved in this. I'm sorry for him."

"Come on, take my hand," she took a step closer, holding it out. "Let her go John."

"It's better this way. You'll see," he said pulling a lighter out of his pocket.

"It's been a long day. Give me the lighter and we can go get some fresh air."

"I can't do that. I can't leave her. I'm so sorry..."he said, his voice almost dispassionate like he'd already used up all his emotions.

"Are you going to kill me too?"

Jordan watched in horror as he kissed his wife's lips tenderly and quietly flicked the flint.

_Oh God..._ "NOOOO!"

The whooshing sound of ambient room oxygen being ignited was unmistakable. Jordan felt the hot flash on her back.

* * *

"NOOOO!"The call "Fire!" cantered down the narrow stairwell and was quickly followed by a controlled chaos of fireman and equipment racing up. If it weren't for Garret, Woody would have been pushing his way through to the front of the line. 


	11. Fake Screen Name Seeks Atonement

**Chapter Eleven**

**Fake Screen Name Seeks Atonement **

The words _stop, drop, and roll_ had never taken on any greater significance for Jordan than they did right then. At the first feel of the hot flash on her back, she dropped and rolled in the opposite direction. It wasn't enough of an evasive action to keep her from getting burned, but it did get her out of the way and back into a relatively safe area until the firemen burst through the door and put the fire out.

Quickly followed by Woody. He found her crouched in the back of the small apartment, trying not to wince at the pain from her burns. "Let me see," he told her.

"Damn it. The jacket is new. I bet it's not salvageable."

Woody smiled to himself. "I'll buy you a new one. Let me see how badly you're burned." He gently eased the coat from her arms and back, thanking the fashion gods that at least the jacket was thick and it had sustained most of the damage – not her. "Not too bad," he said, after examining her back. "But I still think you need to see one of the EMTs. They're right outside."

"Damn it. I hate doctors."

"Jordan, you _are_ a doctor."

"I work on dead people. There's a big difference."

He hid another smile. At least she wouldn't be her own patient. He sent up another prayer of thanks that _ICdeadpeople_ was relatively safe and sound.

Then vowed he would have that talk with her before the evening was out. Burns or no burns.

A quick check by the EMTs resulted in her being sent to the hospital. First degree burns and second degree burns, scattered around over her back and arms. And the bottom part of her hair had been singed. Nothing a couple days rest and a trip to the hair stylist wouldn't cure. But just in case, the attending doctor wanted to keep Jordan overnight to make sure everything was going to be fine.

"Damn it…"

"Is that going to be your answer to everything, Jordan?" His rebuke was mild. If her back hadn't been burned, he would have hugged her.

"I have better things to do than lay around in a hospital bed."

He gently pulled the sheet up over her and tucked her in. "You mean like staying up all night, talking to me on line?"

That startled her. A part of her wanted to relegate that event to her distant past…so distant that it never really happened, and _HarborRunner_ would remain a part of that anonymous microchip world that would vanish as soon as her trial period to the dating service expired. She lowered her eyes and felt her cheeks flush.

"Something like that." It was a low whisper. The truth was, as soon as she had felt the heat from the fire on her back, the only thought running through her mind was that she might not live to tell Woody how sorry she was that she stormed out of the restaurant like she did two weeks ago. How much she regretted what she had said. Could they possibly renew the promise they had made to each other on the dating service – that if it didn't work out romantically between each them, they would remain friends and chat on line.

She readily admitted to herself how much she missed talking to him. _Damn it. It wasn't supposed to happen like this…none of it. HarborRunner35 was not supposed to turn out to be Woody and I wasn't supposed to get trapped in a building with Human Torch Man. I was supposed to excise this part of my life easily and neatly. Instead…damn it. _

"Jordan…Do you need something else for pain?" The look on her face made Woody think her burns were hurting again.

Pain? She nearly told him no, she wasn't in any great pain. But pain meds equaled oblivion, and right now oblivion sounded _real_ good. "Yes. Please. Now."

One more injection later and she was out like light. Whatever they had to say to each other would have to wait.

* * *

He took her home the next day, after stopping off at her apartment to pick up some clothes that didn't reek of gasoline fumes. She had handed off her key to him with a breezy, "You have to jiggle the key a little in the door. The lock needs a little graphite. And no groping through my underwear drawer. Just pick up the panties on top and grab the bra drying the bathroom."

"You're no fun," he whined.

"Hey, do you hear me asking to have a tour of your boxer drawer?"

"Well, you could. I'd let you."

"Woody. Just. Go. Get. My. Clothes."

He nodded and an hour or so later returned with jeans and a very loose shirt that wouldn't bother the bandages on her back. He had eyed the bra with serious doubts that she'd be able to get into it, but chucked it into the bag anyway. One thing he had learned with Jordan…if she asks you for something, do your best to deliver. There was always a purpose for everything. Then he added the panties to the bag that held her other things and a new jacket he had bought her – as promised. Only this one was genuine leather and it was lined with soft wooly stuff. It would be warm and snuggly against the cold Boston winters. He had thrown in a pair of matching leather gloves just for luck.

He returned with the clothes and then stepped out of the room as a nurse helped her dress. When he came back in, she was sitting on the side of her bed, the new jacket lying across her lap.

"You shouldn't have. It's way too expensive and way too much," she greeted him, her fingers nervously running across the fine Italian leather.

He eyed her closely before giving her a lazy grin. "Call it a catch-up gift."

She gave him a puzzled look. "Catch-up gift?"

Woody walked over and gently took her by the shoulders. "A catch-up gift. To catch up for all the time I've wasted. Time that I should have been spending with you and I was too hard-headed and prideful to admit it. To make up for the birthdays that I screwed up. To atone for all the times I just should have told you how I felt to your face instead of hiding behind a fake screen name and IMs."


	12. Account Closed

**Epilogue: **

**Account Closed**

Lily sipped coffee in the break room, looking up as Nigel entered. He handed her a rather thick roll of cash. Her eyebrows rose. "What's this for?"

"You won the office pool!"

Her jaw slackened. "Jordan's in trouble _again_? But… she's not even back from her medical… what?"

Nigel grinned ear to ear and his dark eyes danced. "The _other_ office pool."

Her brows knit down now. "The other…?" Then her mouth went round, into an "o" and her hands fluttered to her cheeks. "The _other_ office pool!"

The Brit's grin got wider – though that had seemed impossible just the moment before. Lily tossed the money in the air and grabbed him for an impromptu jig as bills rained down on them. Only when she was slightly breathless, did Lily pull back and give her dance partner a suspicious look. "Are you _sure_? I mean… well, she never said… exactly… not to me anyway… but I kind of got the feeling… you know, _that_ time."

"When they were snowbound?" Nige shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know, but yeah, now… I'm sure."

"Why? How?" The grief counselor was still hesitant.

"Well, it could just be I accidentally overheard a conversation with Dr. Macy."

"Uh-huh. Accidentally." When he did not fill in the silence left by her pause, she gestured. "And…?

"I think it's safe to assume our Jordan and Woodrow will be spending the next two weeks… well, I'll leave it up to your imagination."

Lily made a sound of shock. "Jordan _told_ Dr. Macy that she and Woody-?"

"Not Jordan, luv." Nigel winked. "Woody."

Lily went scarlet and choked on the last of her coffee. "_Woody_ told Dr. Macy that he and Jordan…?"

"Erhm… not in so many words."

She glared.

"Woody called Dr. M and told him Jordan was taking some vacation time, that she needed it after everything she's been through. Jordan kept calling out that she was fine and she'd be in tomorrow."

"Nige, I have to say this is fascinating, but doesn't really prove that they're… you know."

His eyebrows waggled up and down. "Oh, but I'd say the last bit of what I heard does." Again, he left her hanging for a moment. "Well, instead of arguing, Jordan sounded… less… argumentative when she said…."

* * *

Jordan, having realized the futility of opposing Woody's plans, sidled up to him, slipping her arms around his waist and pressing herself to him, her front to his back. She all but purred, "Fine. You win." A wicked grin flashed across her face as she reached for the phone to cradle it. "Now… get your ass back to bed, _HarborRunner35_."

END


End file.
